Online and Anonymous
by SunMonTue
Summary: By day Dave is a quiet attentive school student, but by night he's a smut-writing fanfic-writer who ships Johnlock. Kurt's never heard of fanfiction before Blaine tells him about it but he's about to be exposed to a whole new world. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note**: I kind of worry that this might turn out crackish, but I hope not. Anyway, I suppose this might be considered spoilerish for both BBC Sherlock and Glee Season 3 (up until Heart anyway, disregards On My Way completely as I want this to be a happy fluffy fic). Kurt and Blaine have broken up but remain close friends.

**ONLINE AND ANONYMOUS**

Kurt stares as the credits flick past and turns to Blaine.

"Tell me that _isn't_ the end."

"Um. It's the end until the next season. Which is… about a year away?"

"_What_? Blaine! I can't believe you let me watch this! Grow attached to these characters and then just… rip one away from me? How do we even know that he lives?"

"Um, because there's a season three?

"But he's _dead!_"

"I'm pretty sure he's not actually dead. I mean, you can't have Sherlock without Sherlock."

"But how does he _survive?_ I can't wait… a whole _year_? This isn't even a proper programme anyway! Three episodes does not make a proper season! Why aren't there more? I need to know how he survives Blaine… you know how things like this just bug me until I know the answer. What were you thinking? What made you think this was a _good_ idea?"

Blaine at least has the decency to look a little ashamed, but he'd been right, he _has_ enjoyed the show. Right up until the last few minutes anyway. They've struggled since they broke up, completely amicably, but it's still been a little awkward going back to just being friends. Kurt had realized it after Valentine's Day; realized that he likes Blaine far more as a friend than anything else, and sure the kissing and handholding and even maybe the sex was nice, but what he enjoys most with Blaine is hanging out. Singing. Or talking.

When he'd gone that entire week with his head in the sand thinking Blaine was doing something romantic and sweet to find that it wasn't him had made him sit back and re-evaluate their relationship. It hadn't been easy, and they've kissed a couple of times since the break-up purely out of habit, just friendly pecks, but he knows that they're just friendly kisses now.

Now they get together to talk and watch TV and do facials. They've worked their way through most shows on Broadway, and Disney films, and then Blaine had suggested _this_. They'd watched the first three episodes last week, and he'd admitted to himself that he'd liked it. And now he's not sure how he feels… he's just invested five hours into someone who has _died_. And sure it's just a TV program, but it doesn't make what he's feeling any less real.

"I'm sorry. Really. But it's just so good. We can watch them again just before the new season starts."

"And what am I meant to do in the mean time Blaine? I need to know how he survives. I _will_ make this your problem as well. I will bug you with this question like slow water torture until it drives you insane just like I know it's going to drive me insane!"

"Uh, well, there's always fanfic."

"What?"

"Fanfic. Fanfiction? There's probably a few good conspiracy theorists stories out there…"

"What are you talking about? What's fanfiction?"

Blaine's eyes open in surprise and Kurt suspects he's about to be educated about some little subsection of society he's never heard about before. He listens in ever increasing amazement as Blaine explains how people write alternate stories, or different endings, or parallel worlds. How people use it to answer questions not addressed in the books, or movie or TV program. He has to admit it sounds intriguing, being able to make your world bend to what you want.

"So there'd be a story about how George Weasley dealt with his twin dying?"

"Dozens probably. You could find a fic that gives the episode we just watched a completely different ending. Find it and hang on to it until the next season comes out. Or you could just read all the Johnlock stories. That would keep you occupied," Blaine says, shrugging his jacket on and grinning at something which Kurt doesn't get.

"Johnlock?"

"Oh. Um… er. It's uh… people pairing off Sherlock and John. Ah. Romantically."

"Well that's not hard, they're already a couple in the show."

"Uh… not really. Anyway, the stories can get pretty um… racy."

"Oh. _Really?_ People write about stuff like that?"

"Yeah. Have a search later. You'll find heaps," Blaine replies, and he looks a little flushed, and he supposes he has his answer right there about what Blaine does with his spare time when he's not with him. He's even more curious now.

"Text me when you get home," Kurt states and Blaine nods, and they hug briefly before waving goodbye to each other, grinning and laughing at how awkward they must look if how they feel is anything to go by. He waits until he can't see the tail lights of Blaine's car and heads to his bedroom. He has some research to do.

_Fanfiction_. He types the word into a search engine and his eyes widen. Over ninety million results? The top one looks the most promising and he clicks. He's kind of curious, so he goes through all the different categories. It's fascinating. Some TV program he's never heard of is the most popular, but even though Sherlock is British it's in the top twenty. He wonders what he should search for, wonders whether Blaine would have any tips… ah well, he's got to learn sometime.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART TWO**

He's not sure what Blaine was talking about when he said it could get racy, because he hasn't read _anything_ more than a kiss, which is tame even for his tastes. He's been reading for the last… three hours? He frowns, he can't believe he's wasted that much time already. He wonders if he's been searching in the wrong genre, but can't think of _racy_ falling under anything but romance, which is slightly misleading but he can deal with that. He looks at the rating box and it says K to T and it's like a little light bulb goes off and he looks at the little drop-down arrow. He redoes the search, limiting it to the rating M and he's chewing his lip. He can't believe he's doing this, feels like laughing hysterically at the urge to double check that his bedroom door is actually closed.

He reads the summaries and ignores the ones with spelling mistakes or bad grammar. If they can't get one sentence right he's not got much hope for the rest of the writing. He knows his original intent was to find some explanation for the huge cliff hanger that he's been left on, but his curiosity is piqued, and… he licks his lips, other parts of him are interested as well, which he finds surprising, because he doesn't like the idea of porn, but… reading something? It doesn't seem as bad. Kind of likes it. It's almost… intellectual. Kind of. And if his dad walked in right now he'd be startled, but there wouldn't be a mad scramble to shut his laptop screen like there would be if he was watching _actual_ porn.

The summery '_Top!John, rimming, barebacking. Pretty much just gratuitous smut_' catches his eye and his breath catches. He swallows, mouth suddenly wet. That's what the M was for then. _More._ Because this is definitely a step up from chaste kisses. He clicks and he's pretty sure his hand is trembling. He reads, and he knows his mouth is open, needs quick shallow breaths. It's written _well_. Not all flowery or all coarse either, it strikes the perfect balance and it's just a very descriptive piece of writing about two guys who love each other having sex. Very hot sex. He can't remember if actual sex got him this hot and bothered, he's actually achingly hard inside his jeans, and he can't believe that some simple words have had this effect.

When Blaine had said _racy_ it had clearly been the understatement of the year, because this goes _beyond_ racy, it's mind-meltingly good. He's never thought of himself as overly sexual before, and he knows Blaine hasn't exactly helped him in that regard, through neither fault on either side, but… he's starting to second guess himself. Maybe he is in fact _very_ sexual and he's just been approaching things the wrong way. He feels all hot, prickly and tight, and he knows he's going to need a shower just so he can jerk off, except he kind of wants to do it while reading the fic again. He swallows. _No_. That would feel too much like porn. He needs to draw the line _somewhere_. He's sure the author… HookedonHope. Right. _Them_. He's sure they didn't intend for gay teenage boys to jerk off while reading it.

He goes and checks his e-mail, trying to calm the blood pumping through his body and ignore the desire to read it again. It's almost two in the morning, and he's _so_ tired. And horny. He clicks back to the fanfiction website. He's going to clear his browser history, but he wants to remember this story. The author. He opens the notes on his phone and types in the username, although he knows he wouldn't forget it anyway, it's almost poetic. He changes for bed, determined to ignore the persistent heaviness in his groin. He _is_ in control of his body, he refuses to believe otherwise. He curls up under his blankets and forces himself to fall asleep.

He wakes with an erection, and given his bedtime reading material and the fact he _didn't_ get himself off last night, despite his need to he's just grateful he didn't wake up already covered in come. Small mercies. He's glad he doesn't share a bedroom with Finn and that he's directly opposite the bathroom. He gathers his towel and toiletries, the precious ones he'd never risk Finn accidentally using, and pressing the towel strategically to the front of his pants he walks to the bathroom.

It's early on a Sunday morning, no one else is awake and out of bed yet, although he can smell coffee in the hall, so suspects either Carole or his dad has made coffee and taken it back to bed for a lazy lie in. He closes the bathroom door and locks it, jiggling the door handle to ensure it's definitely locked. The last thing he needs is Finn bursting in. Usually his erection would have waned a bit, but he's obviously been neglecting it, because if anything it feels even harder than before. He flicks the shower on and shimmies out of his pajama pants.

He steps into the shower and curls his fingers around his cock. He doesn't think about much when he needs to jerk off. It's usually nothing defined, gentle anonymous hands stroking his skin, little kisses, and when he was with Blaine he'd supplant Blaine's face. He's never fantasized, just touches, and will very rarely finger himself, the first time being out of curiosity and later because well, the orgasms were more intense. Now though, he has words running through his head, and images accompanying those words. Tongues lapping at holes, biting bruising kisses, fingers digging in to flesh, and running through hair. Sticky slick lube and the push-pull of penetration.

His fingers move faster, firmer and he leans back against the wall, needing the support. He's not even imagining being touched himself, he's just conjuring the images of two fictional characters having sex. _God_. Okay, so maybe he's a little kinkier than he believed. He kind of gets a little thrill at the idea. He grips firmer and shoves his fist into his mouth, biting down on knuckles until it hurts and he feels the tightness in the pit of his stomach, pulling on all his nerve endings, then he's coming with a muted cry, hand clasped over his mouth, breath coming in sharp harsh pants through his nose. He can't ever remember coming that hard before, his legs are actually shaking.

He doesn't move for a few minutes, still a bit in shock about the whole thing and the urge to laugh hysterically is still there at the edges. It's kind of like discovering that chocolate exists after never knowing what it is and the taste just exploding on your tongue, except for him this is an entire body and mind experience. He _knows_ now that before, when he was having sex with Blaine, his mind was clearly not in the game, because surely sex with someone you love is meant to feel better than what he just experienced by himself.

When he feels more stable he sets about his usual routine, washing and scrubbing, and his entire body is tingling with the afterglow. It feels fantastic, and well, now he's starting to see what all the fuss is about. He gets out and pats himself dry, wrapping his hair and shrugging his bathrobe on before heading back to his room. It's still quiet, which he's thankful for, because he's pretty sure that judging from his reflection in the mirror that anyone looking at him will _know_ what he's just been doing.

He turns his laptop on and then dresses. The urge to sit there wrapped in his robe is overwhelming, but he refuses to give in to it. Once he dressed though he decides to let his hair dry naturally, give it a break from styling products and the heat from the hairdryer. And the fact that he can get online thirty minutes faster is inconsequential. He enters in the URL and instantly enters the author's name into the author search bar and is taken to a profile page. _This author has written 37 stories for Sherlock_. Holy shit. He's read _one_ of those stories. And that's the effect it's had. There's no other information there, although the little icon picture is one of John and Sherlock kissing, which he knows has to be fake, although it looks pretty realistic.

He scans through the stories, and the one he's got stuck in his head is an older piece of work. It also looks like there are several long multi-chaptered pieces, which he'd stayed away from because of time constraints last night, and there are also a couple that aren't marked as complete but have update dates as recently as last night. They're _all_ marked as M and it sets his heart beating that little bit faster and he wants to read them all. He's pretty sure he shouldn't be planning to spend his entire day reading but he can't bring himself to care. Thank god his homework is all done.

He sets about reading the oldest first and is drawn back in to the world of Sherlock. His stomach rumbling makes him look at the clock and he's lost another four hours, although he doesn't consider them wasted. This is bad. Now that he's been reminded he's starving, so he heads to the kitchen for some… brunch. He grabs a couple pieces of fruit, a cup of coffee, along with some toast and takes it back to his room. He normally eats at the table, but he's left in the middle of a story and he really wants to know what happens.

His dad interrupts him about an hour later, but he can't remember what either of them said. He's engrossed in the drug trafficking murder-suspense story, where John's been kidnapped and buried alive and Sherlock has twenty-four hours to find him. He goes to click on _next _and it's not there. It's the end of Season two all over again and he refreshes the screen just incase. Last night he'd only been looking at complete and relatively short stories, because he hadn't intended to do this more than once, just to assuage his curiosity. Now… he wants to know what happens next. _Needs_ to know what happens next.

His mouse cursor hovers over the Sign Up option and he clicks. He can't believe he's going to do this. He wracks his brain, trying to come up with a suitable username. He avoids using his own name, his age or birth year. He knows he needs to protect his privacy. He tries a whole bunch of variations. SongBird. LyricLover. WarblerNo9. They're all taken and he wonders how many of the Dalton Academy Warblers read fanfic. He looks around his room, trying to find something innocuous he can use as a user name. As a joke he types in _Fruitlover_. Of course it works and he huffs in annoyance, of course it's something stupid. Ah well, no one will know it's him anyway. He goes through and favorites the author and all the stories, then alerts the stories and the author. He has no idea how this is all meant to work, but he doesn't want to miss an update.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note**: Dave's messages are bolded italics, and Kurt's are just italics. Hope that it's clear enough.

* * *

><p><strong>PART THREE<strong>

His mom hates it when he reads his phone at the table, and his step-father is snapping his newspaper in annoyance. If the conversation or atmosphere were a bit more friendly he wouldn't mind taking part, but the silence is frosty, and he doesn't really like the days he has to spend with his mom, and he supposes he's old enough now that he could just spend all his time at his dad's, but he's pretty sure his mom would get all hurt and cry at him. He waits for update, muffling the vibration against his leg so that the sound doesn't bother Eric more than necessary.

He would check his e-mails on his laptop, but he's learnt that turning that on in the morning _always_ makes him late, and it's best if he just leave it until he has a moment at school to plug it in. He feels the minute vibration and he holds it up so he can read while he shovels cereal into his mouth and almost chokes. _5__3 new e-mails_. Holy shit. He normally gets about twenty new e-mails when he posts a new chapter, but that was 24 hours ago. 53? Crazy. He scans quickly, and then realizes that 42 of them are alert from the same person. Someone who has apparently marked all his stories as a favorite, as well as him, and put an alert on everything incomplete and author alert as well. It's a bit of an overkill, but he still thrills a bit at it.

It puts him in a good mood for the rest of the morning and even his mother's worried glance doesn't get him down like it usually does. He heads to school and he has a free period for fourth, and he knows he'll use it to reply to his reviews and maybe finish up the next chapter. He has two logins for his computer. It had taken a while, but after some research he'd managed to create _his_ account, and what he considers his dummy account. His dummy account has nothing incriminating on it and is the default log in when his computer turns on. His _other_ account has more interesting things on it. Like _research_.

He settles in at a corner table, moving it slightly so the wall is behind him. He's not risking people seeing what he's writing.. He answers the reviews quickly, efficiently, some with a single word, and others more drawn out. He's got friends online, crazy bunch that they all seem to be. He's tempted to message _Fruitlover_, and what the hell is that for a name anyway? The profile is completely blank, like his own, and his stories are the only ones listed there under favorites. It's most likely some teenage girl. Or worse, someone like his mom, which is a whole other level of terrifying. Although judging from the friends he's made online, if his mom was even as half as amazing and accepting he wouldn't feel the need to tiptoe around and lie about what he's doing with his time.

He gets out his phone and sets an alarm for the end of the period and put his headphones on. It helps to block out the noise and also stops people coming up and interrupting him. He types fast, he knows what's got to happen, and fortunately it isn't a sex scene, because he's learnt that he needs to write those in private. His chapter starts out as scattered paragraphs that he slowly pieces together, discarding some, moving others, until he's happy with the flow. He normally posts three chapters a week, on a Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. Last night had been a no-go because of the church dinner he'd gone to. He'd skipped out on church in the morning, and his mom's eyes had been so pleading he couldn't say no. So now he just has the finishing touches, adds an apology for it being a bit late, does a quick read through, checking for errors and then uploads it.

OAA

Kurt doesn't think he's obsessive about his phone, but he has it in his pocket, turned to silent, despite the request at the start of each class. One of the few times he'd had it turned off his dad had had a heart attack, so what if he's a little paranoid now. He feels the little buzz, just once, and he knows it's a new e-mail. He's got a longer sequence of buzzes for a text, and a continuous one for a call. He waits for the teacher to turn their back and pulls it out.

_New chapter – Chapter 11 of story, 24 hour protection, by HookedonHope._

Oh god. It's the one with John being the bodyguard. He wants to read it immediately and he glances around the class. It's English, the teacher has just instructed them to read pages 120-140 and he takes it as a sign. He manages to slip his phone onto his desk, tilt the book he's _meant_ to be reading on two of his other books and voila! He bows his head, one hand on the book to turn the page occasionally and also ready to slip it down to cover his phone if necessary. He reads fast. Too fast to really enjoy it, but he's dying to know if the sexual tension that's been mounting between them is going to come to anything and then he hopes like hell it doesn't, because getting a hard-on in the middle of English Literature would be humiliating. There isn't anything more than snappy conversation and inner-monologuing and _god_, it's going to be good when they finally get down to it and he feels a little shocked that he even just had that thought.

At lunch he can't meet Blaine's eyes, knows he's probably blushing given their last conversation and his Facebook status which he changed to _Busy reading, thanks for the recommendation Blaine_, and Blaine knows him too well, sitting beside him and chuckling quietly.

"So, you enjoy the rest of your weekend?" Blaine asks, and he sucks at pretending innocence and Kurt pokes him in the arm.

"It was… enlightening. And educational. And… God Blaine, it's… "

"Pretty freaking fantastic?"

"Yeah. Pretty much." He can feel the heat in his cheeks and Blaine is snickering under his breath, and he can't believe he's talking about this with him. Not in detail of course, but still… they've never really talked about it, just _done_. Which is probably where he's gone wrong, considering the effect the written word apparently has on him.

"What are you guys talking about?" Mercedes asks.

"Nothing!" He and Blaine respond automatically and she raises her eyebrows and gives them a look, as if she doesn't believe it.

"You guys look… guilty. You slip up or something in the weekend?"

"No!" Kurt replies, unable to believe she's asking about his sex life in the cafeteria at lunch.

"We were just discussing our recent love of romance novels. There's been an increase in the publication of gay-romances," Blaine says, and Kurt looks at him gratefully.

"Well, Kurt's always liked romance…" Mercedes says, although she still looks skeptical.

"Oh yes, Kurt definitely likes _romance_," Blaine states, and the inflection he puts on the last word makes Kurt want to bang his head onto the table.

He rereads it later in his study period and enjoys it even more, now that the fear of the teacher spying him is removed. He gets to the end and the _Review this Chapter_ mocks him. He has no idea what to say, too embarrassed really, but… he taps it anyway and types out something.

_This was a brilliant chapter. The tension you are creating between John and Sherlock is intense. I can't wait to read more. Does it bother you that some people might use your writing for illicit purposes?_

He stares at the last sentence, wondering if he should delete it. Wondering if the writer will _know_ that he falls into the whole 'some people' category. Screw it. He sends it. It's not like he knows the person, or they know him. And despite Blaine informing him that the author is probably female, he has to admire the descriptive nature of the writing. And the creative plotlines of course. He's not really paying attention to the book he's trying to read, the part he was _meant_ to read earlier in English Lit, and he startles when his phone vibrates again with a new e-mail.

_**Thanks for the review, and unless you're a guy I'm really not interested in hearing details of what use you put my fic to. *wink***_

They know! He glances around the library, trying to swallow his nerves. Oh god. He didn't expect a response. Except he has one now, and the guy… it's a guy? Or is it a girl wanting to know about a guy jerking off to their fic? He feels a little panicky and takes a deep breath. He's anonymous. It doesn't matter. He's out and proud. He can be out and proud online as well. He swallows again, gathers up every flirty little bit he has in him and types back his answer.

_I am a guy. But I don't share those details with just anyone._ _You're welcome for the review, I'd write more but I'm not as good with words as you are. *wink*_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note**: For the record, when I started this fic I ensured that "HookedonHope" and "FruitLover" were both unused usernames. Now not so much.

_**Dave's messages**_

_Kurt's messages_

* * *

><p><strong>PART FOUR<strong>

Dave grins, holds back a snort of amusement. He's only come across a few other guys since he started writing, and none have them have been his age. Close, but not quite. They've either been in their early teens (and it used to worry them that they read his stories but he's long gotten over that fact) or a bit older, at college and friendly-flirty. Like this guy. If it _is_ actually a guy. Because he's come across _those_ as well. He re-reads the one line, and it's always hard to tell through the internet what things can sometimes mean, but he's gotten better at it.

He's not sure how to respond. It wouldn't be the first flirtatious correspondence he's had, but… he shrugs. It's harmless. He's not with anyone, and he needs all the practice he can get considering he failed wooing Kurt. So much for _that_ advice from his online friends. Although he hadn't factored in Blaine. He'd kind of thought that maybe they'd broken up, but that had obviously been a massive mistake on his behalf. He taps the keyboard absently, trying to figure out what to type and then it hits him.

_**You seem pretty good with words to me. And I guess I'll have to work at becoming not anyone. **_

He presses send before he can re-think and erase the incredibly cheesy message. Fuck. There's a fifty-fifty chance it's a girl. If they're actually telling the truth, then well the chance of him being close to his age is slim. They type well though. No abbreviations or text speak, which he _hates_. So he'd err on slightly older. He hopes so, because the idea of flirting with some pre-teen is honestly horrifying.

_I guess you will. *wink* Does bribery work? A new piece of information for every new chapter?_

Damn that was a fast response. Whoever it is, is clearly sitting there on their computer, waiting for his replies. Huh. He grins and types out his reply.

_**A new piece of information about you, or about me?**_

_Both. Make it interesting. *wink* I have to run. The bell just rang. Write for me my pretty!_

Dave sits back, wonders if Fruitlover is aware he's given away multiple pieces of information in just a few lines. He's a guy. Probably. Gay. Most likely if he is a guy. And goes to school. God he hopes it's high school. And he made a Wizard of Oz reference, which could mean a couple of things… Musical lover. Older. And also whoever it is is bossy as hell. He grins and starts typing again, working on the next chapter with a new sense of purpose.

OAA

Kurt feels on the verge of hysterical laughter for the rest of the afternoon. He can't believe he's trading messages with someone anonymously. He's used chat rooms before, but that was with friends he already had. Not _strangers_. God. His dad would kill him if he knew he was talking to strange men on the internet. Oh god, he _is_ though. Worse, he's _flirting_. But it feels good. Freeing. Especially the fact that he's being responded to, flirted _with _and it feels naughty and safe all at once. He's pretty sure his dad wouldn't understand this whole fanfiction thing. Although, he would understand his need to talk to someone his age going through the same thing. Hmm. That's an idea. He turns it over in his head, considering.

He's still thinking about it again when he gets home, because he needs to come up with something to tell his dad. If he starts spending too much time online he'll need a reason to explain why because his dad _will_ notice. He does things like that now, worried that he'll think he's ignoring him or isn't there for him, so has become slightly _over_ attentive. He gets where his dad is coming from, but he really doesn't need him to worry. It's probably best to take the offensive, offer information before his dad even asks, because then… he won't get asked and have to lie. Although he can't exactly be upfront and truthful. _Hey dad, I'm reading 'stuff' online and chatting up the author…_

He lets laughter bubble up and he snorts in amusement, because yeah, he could tell his dad he was looking at porn, that would give him privacy and ensure his dad never asks to borrow his laptop again, but he still doesn't really consider it porn. There are no pictures, just his own imagination responding to words… he's always associated porn with visual images. He supposes the best and most truthful description would be erotic literature for what he's reading. And that doesn't sound so bad.

He does his homework, wireless internet disabled on his laptop and phone turned off and buried at the bottom of his bag, because as much as he wants to read a new chapter as soon as it's there he has to put his future first. And surely the guy writing can't write that fast. After twenty minutes he's _itching_ to check his e-mail, and he's only a quarter of the way through his homework. No. Ten more minutes and then he'll check. He lasts five before enabling the wireless on his laptop. There's no new e-mail saying there's a new chapter of any of the three stories. He sighs and leaves his e-mail open. He clearly has no self-control.

OAA

It's shorter than normal, but he only updated it on Friday night, and he stops right before the planned sex scene. He types rapidly, and it's one thing that this addiction has done for him is improve his typing speed and accuracy. He rereads it, tries to pay attention to possible typos and grammar. He's ignored his homework, which is something he swore he'd never do (again), but he's also ahead, because he knows that if the mood strikes him and he wants to spend all night writing, he can if his homework is already done. Maybe not well, but enough that the teacher isn't going to haul him up for not doing it at all.

He uploads and publishes the story and then goes to make his dad and him some dinner. He knows he needs to do something. People actually need time to read the chapter before they review, and it might be a one-off little flirtation that will never happen again. He hopes that isn't the case, but he's had short one-off conversations with so many people that it's hard to keep track. He chops vegetables and cooks pasta, making an easy dish that will keep warm in the oven for hours without ruining. It's been forty minutes, which is hopefully plenty of time. Although he doesn't even know where FruitLover lives. He suspects North America, if only because of the fact he was in school at the same time as him, but he's learnt to never assume anything.

_Another great chapter although I take umbrage at the cruel ending, leaving us (well, me) all hanging there, when I am sure you know exactly what we're all waiting for. Reunion sex would have to be the best, I'm sure. Although all the sex you write seems to have its own charm. _

Still there then, and it's the first review to the new chapter and he knows he's grinning like an idiot but he can't help himself. He sits back in his chair, wondering what he can reply with, something that hits the right level of flirty but not creepy.

_**Well, I have to give you something to look forward to don't I? *wink* So…information? Can I ask if you're older or younger than 17?**_

He sounds like an old pervert but he kind of needs to know an age, he can deal with older, but he's giving up on this right here and now if he's younger than 17.

_I'm older than seventeen. _

Thank fuck for that. He grins, relieved.

_**So, a senior in high school then?**_

_How do you know that?_

He fist pumps the air, feeling stupidly victorious for having guessed something, but knows he needs to explain. To tone down the potentially creepy.

_**Sorry. Didn't mean to freak you out. (It's nice to be right though). I didn't -know-. I guessed. You said a bell had rung in one of you previous messages. There aren't bells at college. Except the types used for alarms. Don't worry, I'm not stalking you or anything, I've just gotten good at picking up little things. Call it a side-effect of writing Sherlock and being caught out by girls pretending to be guys. I suppose I can be a little paranoid too. **_

There's a longer delay in the reply, and he wonders if he should go and eat dinner. Or more realistically, get dinner and eat it in front of his computer. Or bring his laptop down to the dining room table. He's a bit worried that he's completely freaked him out, made him run for the hills or something, but then the familiar ping alert comes through.

_Why would a girl do that? And while I have been known to wear clothing to school that was bought in the women's section I can assure you I am not in fact female. I can understand being paranoid. This is my first time talking to someone online that I don't actually know in person, so… I'm a bit new to all this._

_**I don't know why girls do what they do. Probably just as well I'm gay. So, you're out? In high school? You've got big balls. And don't worry, this site is fairly innocuous. You're pretty safe here. Other sites… well. Start small. **_

_Not that I've seen many to compare them to, but I assure you, they're completely average. *wink* And I'm sure if I decide to venture off this site you can protect me._

He laughs so hard that he's almost in tears and he lets himself settle down before typing out his response.

_**I don't think you need protecting. If anything people need to be warned about you. You seem pretty capable of holding your own.**_

_Oh, trust me, I'm more than capable of holding my own. *wink*_

He blinks. He hadn't meant it sexually, but more as a compliment. The fact that the guy (and he's pretty confident it is a guy now), the fact that he's out tells him that he's strong. Confident. Unafraid of being labeled by his peers.

_**Not everything I say has a double meaning you know.**_

_Sorry. Neither does mine. I would never talk like this if you ever met me in person. _

_**That's cool. I mean. I'm not even out to my parents yet, so being online is kind of a freedom for me. I get it. So, you got a question for me? Is meant to be an exchange of information right?**_

_How old are you?_

_**I'm a senior in high school as well. Another thing we have in common. And while I'd like nothing better to sit here and talk, I have to go eat dinner and do homework and stuff. And then do some writing. Some people are really demanding you know? *wink***_

_Oh yes, some people definitely are. When do you normally update anyway? I'm going to plan reading so that it coincides with my alone time…_

_**Alone time huh? That's what you call it? *wink* Well, I'll try to make sure I keep all the smutty updates for either late at night or the weekends. Deal? **_

_That would be appreciated. *smile* Deal._


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** There will be a delay to all my fics while I deal with some heavy RL matters. This is only getting updated because this was written 5-6 days ago and the following chapter is also already written.

**Author's confession**: I haven't read any JohnLock at all. Ever. I barely have time to read the writing I want to in this fandom.

_**Dave's messages**_

_Kurt's messages_

* * *

><p><strong>PART FIVE<strong>

There aren't any more updates all week and he feels a bit sulky about that. He's done a read through of all HookedonHope's favorite authors and stories. There are a couple of incomplete stories there which he puts on alert, despite them not being updated in _months_. HookedonHope has good taste, but he still prefers his stories and writing style. He's tempted to message him out of the blue, but doesn't want to come across as creepy-stalkerish. He doesn't know the etiquette for this online stuff, although he's pretty sure given their conversations etiquette really isn't too high up on the priority list.

He's still paying attention in class, but the book they're reading for English Literature is _boring_ and every time he tries to concentrate and read it he gets the giggles, just thinking about what he read instead of the book in class earlier in the week. Blaine has sent him a few links, recommendation lists from other people, long lists which seem over whelming, although the fact that HookedonHope is listed in nearly all of them is reassuring. There's more than just the original website he'd found. There's sites dedicated to only JohnLock. He feels a bit like he's just discovered a candy store. And he has a _wicked_ sweet tooth.

He almost cancels his plans for Friday night but then realizes he's being ridiculous. The writing will still be there when he goes to bed, and _god, _he hope it's… smutty? That's what he called it right? He said he'd keep those kinds of updates for the weekend and late at night. His mind fizzes then, realizing that these words are being written by a teenage boy and… he probably gets turned on writing it. _How_ does he write it? Kurt can't imagine writing things like that; he can only just get his head around the fact that he's _reading_ it.

He goes out to dinner with Blaine. Tucks his phone away in his pocket and ignores it. Turns off e-mail alerts, although it's almost physically painful to do so; cutting himself off from the online world like that. He can do this. He can be pleasant and social for a few hours, although he's pretty sure that if anyone was going to understand his new obsession it would be Blaine. They end up picking apart the clothing choices of every other patron in the restaurant and making up fake conversations for them, along with ridiculous back stories. He's always enjoyed people watching, but Blaine has a devious sense of humor and he has a good time despite the constant itch to manually check his e-mail.

Kurt's not even in his car when he's flicking his e-mail alerts on. _Nothing_. Well that sucks. It's already ten-thirty. He drives home in a bit of a funk, because he'd have thought he'd have updated by now. He takes his time in the shower, considers jerking off, but he really kind of wants to save himself for the possibility of new smut. Not that it really matters, because if he's learnt nothing else this week, it's that when it comes to reading he can come, and then a few minutes later feel like he needs to come again. He's not felt that driving urge before and the novelty still hasn't worn off days later since he discovered it on Sunday.

Computer open he taps away at his homework assignments, waiting for an e-mail and he's about to give up and go to bed when the little window blinks.

_New chapter – Chapter 7 of story, Bubbles of life, by HookedonHope._

He almost feels like doing a little dance in his chair, but stops himself. _Finally! _He moves to the bed, homework forgotten. He crosses his legs beneath him and pulls his computer into his lap and starts to read. Like always he's pulled in, and he looks at the side bar. It's a _long_ chapter. The best type. And the sex in it is fast and furious, full of passion, fast fumbling hands and two people who can't get to each other fast enough. There's been six chapters of buildup, them dancing around each other, and it's all culminating in _this_. He's chewing on his thumb nail, breathing shallowly, eyes intent on the screen, unblinking. He gets to the end and he licks his lips and swallows.

Moving to half-lay and half sit, he pulls his pajama bottoms down and takes his half-filled cock in his hand. He has to stop and re position, figure out a way of being able to work his cock and scroll at the same time. Obviously not a problem when watching _actual _porn. He starts reading again, lets himself be surrounded by the conjured images and the sensation of his hand gliding on his cock. He's done this almost religiously every night this week, always going back to the first fic, his clear favorite. The glide of firm hot flesh between the circle of his fingers is almost hypnotic, his body rocking into his hand, back and forth.

The part of the story when John is screaming at Sherlock has his hand moving faster, knowing that their first kiss is imminent. The pace is fast and he matches it with his hand, the description of John raking fingernails over Sherlock's nipples make him reach for his own and _oh…_ he never knew. He wishes there was some way he could read and jerk off without having to scroll down the page, knows he could sit at his desk but that takes a considerable amount of enjoyment out of it. He gets to his favorite bit from before and decides to read it over and over , hand _flying_ over his cock now, the other going to pinch his nipples. The pressure is all coiling together and he lets himself collapse onto his back, disregarding his laptop, his mind now just focused on his impending orgasm.

His hips are snapping upward to meet the downward movement of his hand so fast that he's pretty sure he's going to be a bit tender, if not slightly bruised. His eyes are clenched shut, his mind focused on what his body is feeling, the tight feeling in his muscles all pulling, his skin hot and tight, his balls constricting. He gasps when he comes, suddenly aware that he hasn't been breathing enough and he pants, feeling even more light-headed than normal after an orgasm. Fuck. It's addicting. This feeling afterward, during and the anticipation beforehand, it's _all_ addicting.

He lets his breathing return to normal, reaches for the small towel he's started to keep close, tucked carefully beneath a pillow for easy access and wipes himself clean before walking on shaky legs to the bathroom to wash his hands. He knows he needs to write a review. But how does he put into words how great that was? Not that it beats the other story yet, but still… He stares at the screen for a moment and then clicks.

_*fans self* Perfectly timed chapter. Thanks for sticking to our deal. I like how John hasn't lost everything. And how they dealt with things. And how John jumped his bones (seriously, sometimes guys are clueless and need their bones to be jumped to get with the program.) Awesome chapter. I enjoyed the -intense- ending._

He wants a reply. Wants to talk to him again. Except it's almost one in the morning and he's tired, the lethargy of the orgasm seeping through him. He'll read the chapter again and hope for a reply tonight. He knows if he gets a response he'll potentially be up all night chatting but he won't notice the time ticking by and the feeling he gets talking to HookedonHope is one he's never had before, like a form of sexual freedom, or expression. He really likes it.

OAA

He's exhausted. Training had been brutal, and Nick still watches him with suspicious calculating eyes. Then to top off a crappy day at school he'd gone to the small little Italian bistro and gotten takeout for him and his dad only to spy Kurt and Blaine, and it had made all the rejection he'd felt on Valentine's Day wash over him again. He _knew_ it was a vain hope after what Kurt had yelled at him that time in the locker room, but he'd kind of needed to do it anyway, for himself if nothing else. As everyone had said, the worse that could happen was he said no.

Except they'd been wrong. The worst that could happen was seeing pity. It's been two months now though, and Kurt was obviously telling him the truth, he _is_ with Blaine. Doesn't stop him feeling like shit though, especially given Kurt's whole _'let's be friends'_ spiel which he'd hoped for, for all of a week before letting that dream go as well. He kind of wants to write some angst. Some soul-tearing and gut-clenching angst that just purges out all his feelings. He's used it more than once to process his thoughts and emotions. Not publishing all of it, but just getting it out. However instead of angst he writes the required smut. It's not as cathartic, but it gets him half-hard which he appreciates in a second-hand kind of way.

He loads and posts it after a quick read through. It's not been a good week for proof reading but he's so tired he can't bring himself to care. They can just be grateful he's updated at all right now. He staggers into the bathroom and turns the shower on, rubbing a hand over his crotch half-heartedly. Choices. He can jerk off now in the shower and then somehow find the energy to dry himself and get to bed; or he can wait and jerk off in bed and then just float into unconsciousness afterward; or lastly, he can aim for the second option and likely fall asleep halfway through given how exhausted he's feeling. It's happened before.

When he wakes the next morning he lies there, it's still early, and his dad doesn't nag him to get out of bed early. He reaches for his computer, unplugging it from where it's been charging. He has a few hours before he has to be at work. He loads up his account, his dad knows not to go snooping, probably because he was once a teenage boy. Twelve new e-mails. He spies FruitLover's username and clicks there first and reads the review and snorts in amusement. Considering the chapter ending involved John and Sherlock curling up on the couch after sex he's pretty sure there is some _other_ intense ending that's being referred to. He's grinning as he clicks on reply.

_**I'm glad you liked the chapter. Just the epilogue to go for this one. The ending was intense huh? Good to know for future reference. *wink***_

He's smiling as he goes downstairs to get some breakfast, just cereal and milk that he can eat in his room. His dad is at the table with coffee and the paper, quiet and he greets him quietly before leaving him. He really needs to talk about moving here full time. He likes the ease of their relationship, doesn't feel like he has to try so hard to please his dad. That's his goal for the weekend he decides. Talk to his dad about it. His dad is all cool calm and collected, so he'll be able to help him. He goes back up to his room, feeling a bit lighter now that he's made that decision and huffs when he sees _Fruit Lover sent you a message._ Boy doesn't waste time.

_I mean, you don't have to tell me, I'm just curious. But how do you write the sex so well? I can only just talk about it anonymously apparently. I -can- talk about it in person it's just embarrassing. _

_**Want to know a secret? I've never even had sex. What I have done is a lot of research. LOL A LOT. And I read a lot before I started writing myself. I learnt what I like to read and try and keep it to that. **_

_Really? I find that information surprising. Well, a secret for a secret. I -have- had sex. And I enjoy your fic more. Well, the results from your fic. I mean. I'm sure you know what I mean._

His stomach clenches at the idea that even this guy has had sex. He knows logically that he won't have sex until he's out, or at least drunk enough to not care, but it doesn't stop the _want._ He can't write what he writes and not want to experience it for himself. Although he's pretty sure he doesn't actually _want _to experience some of it. Writing and fantasizing about something is completely different from wanting it for himself. He stares at the sentence and tries to figure out what he reply with that strikes the right tone.

_**Well then, your boyfriend (?) can't be doing it right. *wink***_

_Ex-boyfriend. But not for that reason. Although considering it all in hindsight it is probably an additional factor. We're still friends. He introduced me to the wonders of fanfiction at least, so consider him redeemed in that department at least. *wink*_

Okay, so he's not flirting with a guy who has a boyfriend, which makes him feel slightly relieved. Not that it's his problem if another guy wants to send flirty sexy messages, but he'd feel guilty either way. He doesn't even have time to type a reply before he's alerted to another response.

_Anyway, I'm probably distracting you from writing. Go write! I want some delicious John/Sherlock interaction to send myself off to sleep for tonight._

_**Interaction? You can't call it sex? Fucking? Or even just smut? And who are you to be bossing me around huh? *wink***_

_Oh, I'm -very- bossy. Demanding too, depending on who you ask. Don't worry, you'll get used to it. *wink*_

Dave grins, feels all warm and squirmy and he knows he'll never meet this guy, but the teasing banter they have is what he wants in his real life, someone that makes him laugh and feel good about himself. He could easily get used to it. Wants to get used to it.

_**I'm sure I will. *wink***_


	6. Chapter 6

**PART SIX**

He goes through his hours at work only half paying attention to shelving and helping customers. The other half of his brain is going through his stories, the next chapter is already two-thirds done, but there's no smut in this one. There's drama and a lot of suspense and he finally gets to use the cliffhanger he's wanted to use since he started, with John falling asleep while buried alive. He's never going to kill off one of his main characters, but his readers don't know that. Well actually they probably do if they've been reading his fic since he started. He likes the drama and mystery that Sherlock offers, but the death… well, writing fic is his way of dealing with that until season three.

When he gets home his dad has cooked dinner, pot-roast, which is one of his favorites and he knows it's now or never to talk to him about moving in permanently.

"Dad, I need to talk to you about something…"

"Sure. You know you can talk to me about anything."

The intense look on his dad's face scares the shit out of him. _He knows_. About _everything_. He swallows and tries to work up some moisture in his suddenly desert-like mouth.

"Uh, I was kind of wondering if I could move here permanently."

"Oh. I thought… of course. I take it you haven't spoken to your mom and are coming to me for reinforcements?"

"Uh. Yes?"

"That's fine. It's completely your decision, and has been since you were fourteen. Just, David, I want you to know I would never kick you out, over anything. I…wanted to let you know that."

It's the _perfect_ opening. The _perfect_ opportunity to come out but he just smiles and murmurs thanks and then spends the rest of the meal feeling like a complete and utter shitty coward. God he wishes he could just say the words. He knows his dad won't care, although his mom will freak. And he really doesn't want to change the way his parents look at him. Or anyone for that matter. He escapes to his room as soon as the dishes are done and his dad sits down to watch something on TV. He stares blankly at his computer for a few minutes, his mind jumping all over the place and he takes a deep calming breath.

He writes furiously, the afternoon of building up ideas and creating dialogue needing an outlet and he flicks between all three documents, making notes for future chapters, little snippets of dialogue. All the while his stomach is clenching at just the idea of ever coming out. The whole idea is terrifying, admitting something this big out loud to other people. Online is different. No one knows him and there's this distance. He could be whoever he wants to be, the fact that he's completely himself is freeing. When he uploads the chapter it's still early, only ten, and he laughs. This is what his weekend nights consist of now if he doesn't have a game on. Writing and updating fic. If he didn't enjoy it so much he'd feel a little lame. A lot lame.

He opens up his blog and starts chatting to some of his online friends, working absently on his writing in the background. He can't turn his brain off, but he needs a break from just focusing on getting a chapter completed. It's been half an hour before he realizes he doesn't even have his e-mail account open, which is unusual for him. As soon as it's open he grins. Fruitlover.

_WHAT? You're leaving it there? That's brutally unfair. What if I somehow die this week and never know how this ends? What if YOU die? Then I won't know how all THREE end. I really think I need to never read any more of these incomplete stories. They aren't good for my health, and I'm pretty sure heart problems run in my family. You HAVE to tell me what happens next._

He grins and types back a quick reply.

_**You really want me to tell you what happens? Even though it'll spoil it for you?**_

_Tell me tell me tell me. I'll live with being spoiled. Just tell me if he lives. That's all I need to know._

_**He lives. I like writing happy endings. I'm kind of a romantic. **_

_Good. I like romance. And I mean the hearts and flowers type, not the type on this website. Not that that doesn't have its own attraction, I just think I need more of it in my real life. The hearts and flowers. Not the smut. Well. No. Maybe. Ugh. It's too late to be coherent._

_**You consider this late?**_ Dave types, and he's pretty sure the guy is in the same time zone. And even if he isn't, that just makes it earlier. Unless the guy was lying about his age, but he doesn't think so. Or he lives outside the States.

_Well, not really I suppose. It's just been a long day. And I was kind of hoping for something more pleasant to go to bed with._

Dave winces and remembers their brief exchange from last night, with him wanting more smut to fall asleep with. Ah well.

_**Sorry. You'll have to find your jerking off material somewhere else tonight. Can't write smut all the time. Sorry. *sad face***_

_Oh, I didn't mean to criticize, I'm just a little disappointed. I have another of your stories to aid me when I need it. *blush*_

_**Oh really? Care to share which one? *wink***_

_Does it count as a piece of information? We didn't -formally- exchange information last time, but there was a fairly significant piece of information we did share with each other._

Dave grins and sits back, because _fuck_, the list of little facts he knows about this guy is slowly but steadily increasing and he's pretty sure the guy isn't even aware that he knows a lot more about him than he's let on.

_**Hit me. Two questions. Just, nothing too stalkerish okay?**_

_What, you mean I need to abandon my plan of obtaining your home address and making you write for me full time? *wink* Let me think though. Two questions. I feel spoilt._

Dave snorts, amused, but he hopes the guy won't ask anything too personal. He's not going to give away anything about himself, he's not risking it although chances are it's harmless.

_So, I'm pretty sure you already answered this, or it could be construed from our previous discussion, but I take it you're not out at school. You know that I am. Apparently my closet had a glass door. So, why aren't you out at school? That's my first question. And I'll horde my second question until you answer. And then I'll answer two questions for you. *wink*_

Fuck. He can't even escape it online in harmless flirting. He contemplates not answering, or leaving it for a while, because the mood he's in right now… he lets out a long sigh and taps his fingers lightly over his keyboard and then rubs at his face. Screw it.

_**It's complicated. And unlike your glass door my closet is 9-inch thick reinforced steel on all sides. People our age aren't exactly the most accepting and I haven't even told my parents yet. My mom won't accept it and will instantly try and figure out a way to fix me, which will sway between praying about it and organizing me a trip to a doctor to cure me. My dad. Well, I think my dad already knows. Or at least has some clue. Maybe. Bottom line? I'm not brave enough to come out while I'm in high school.**_

He sends it before he can take it back, or change it, and he isn't surprised when there isn't an instant reply like all the other times. They've gone from something really light hearted to something way more intense, and there's still no reply after ten minutes.

_I can't even imagine what it would be like to not have the support of my friends and family. They've gotten me through some really bad patches. I can understand where you're coming from. I wish it were different though, that it weren't such a big deal._

_**Me too. Second question? Something a bit lighter this time maybe?**_

_Yeah. Okay. Favorite color?_

_**That's unoriginal, but okay. Blue. Green. Both of those colors. So, my turn now. Which fic is it that you go back to night after night?**_

_Okay. A deal's a deal I suppose. Responsive Flesh. That's my favorite. I might be having to use moisturizer on a particular part of my anatomy due to uh, overuse and some chafing issues._

_**Your hand or your dick? And yes, that's my second question. *wink***_

_If it was my hand I assure you I would have just come out and said it was my hand. I moisturize my hands daily as a matter of course. The other…is needing some attention._

_**That's kind of hot. You could just jerk off using moisturizing lotion you know. Two birds, one stone? Or invest in some good lube, because if you're chafing you clearly aren't using any. *pokes tongue***_

_Ha. Okay then. I will. I'd like to tell you that you should only poke your tongue out at people if you're planning on putting it to good use._

Dave grins, glad that they're back to the light-hearted flirting.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note**: This is conversation/chatting heavy and it's nearly all one sided. Necessary though.

Also I am going on holiday for five days - so updates everywhere will be non-existent until Wednesday next week my time.

ETA: FF net seems to be playing up (again), so sorry if you got a multiple alert, I just want to try a delete and reload and see if that helped. Not going to hold my breath.

* * *

><p><strong>PART SEVEN<strong>

He's exhausted. He's been trying to ignore the little clock in the corner of his screen. He _knows_ it's almost three am, a time he previously thought existed only for sleep, and if his dad asks he's going to say he was up just past midnight when he went to bed. They've been talking about really stupid things, deliberately staying away from personal information or asking questions, sharing funny clips on youtube. He now knows the most idiotic thing HookedonHope has ever done was shove three peas up his nose, convinced he could shoot them out one after the other when one of his friends dared him. It's not that he did it, but that he was fourteen which makes it so humiliating. He'd teased him, saying he's clearly improved his personal skills and intelligence since then.

HookedonHope is currently silent. Well. He's taking longer than usual to answer and he's worried that he's somehow insulted him.

_**Nah. I always tend to do dumb shit in real life. Screw things up in a big way. Hopefully it'll wear off sooner rather than later, I mean, I've got to catch a break sometime right?**_

_Do you think it's more awkward because you're also always on guard making sure your secret is safe?_

_**Probably. Yeah. Definitely. But I seem to fuck things up with the people that -do- know I'm gay just as much. Anyway man, I've got to hit the sack. As much as I want to keep talking to you I've got to get some sleep. Night.**_

_Of course. It's a bit of a Catch 22 situation for me. I enjoy our chats but I want to read more from you. Imagine if you could do this full time. For a job. Anyway, sleep sounds blissful. I admit that I need my beauty sleep. And probably a gallon of coffee to make it through tomorrow. Night._

_**Sleep tight.**_

_You too._

He kind of wants to send some virtual hugs or something, make him feel… something. He's not sure. He's not sure about any of it except that in the space of a week he's vested a considerable amount of time and energy in this guy who… he's come to really like. He wants to ask more questions, get past this whole stupid one piece of information every new chapter shit because that means it's a trickle of information and he wants a flood.

When he wakes on Sunday morning, late, his throat is scratchy and he drinks warm water with a little lemon and honey mixed in, trying to sooth the ache. He does the rest of his homework but cancels his coffee date with Rachel and Mercedes and instead goes and has a short nap. His dad wakes him three hours later for dinner. He's clearly been more tired than he thought, and his dad is looking concerned and he waves a hand, dismissing his concerns. He'll be fine with a good night's sleep. He wants to stay awake for the next chapter, but he can't, and his body feels heavy and he's dragged into sleep.

OAA

He'd been disappointed last night when FruitLover hadn't immediately reviewed, more disappointed this morning when he'd checked his e-mail like an addict. Still nothing. He heads to school in a bit of a funk, wondering if he's somehow done something wrong. Again. Even online he seems to screw things up sometimes, although he has more time to think things over, and he's found he's far better at expressing himself with words. After first period he checks his phone again and grins when he sees FruitLover's moniker among the others. More than once. Huh.

_I'm home sick so I'm going to re-read all your stories and review them all. Apparently I am terrible with late nights. Or I had already come down with something and staying up until three just exacerbated it. Anyway, I tried staying awake to read this, but instead it was waiting for me this morning when I woke. Your writing is what I compare all other writing to, and let me tell you, everything else pales in comparison. Do you have a favorite author? Published in a book I mean? 34 more questions to go! _

He frowns. Thirty-four more questions? And then he realizes that he's going to review them _all_, clearly only once, rather than every single chapter, and… they're going to exchange more information. He grins wider, feeling a bit lighter, then feels someone jostle his arm and he turns to find Nick, standing there, looking at him with narrowed eyes. _Crap._ He quickly shoves his phone in his pocket and jerks his head in greeting.

"Hey man."

"Hey. You coming to English or just going to block up the hallway?"

"Uh. English. For sure. Yeah."

"Come on."

He walks beside Nick, and God, he's nervous as fuck. He's not said anything about seeing him with Kurt on Valentines, but it's the same-sick-fear that he felt just after he kissed Kurt in the locker room. One of his many numerous screw-ups. He's trying to play it cool now, like it's no big deal, but he has no idea if Nick's buying it or not, because he just looks confused when he looks at him, and he knows Nick isn't stupid, they share AP English and AP Calculus, and he's just waiting for the ball to drop, for him to say something. Until then he's going to act like it doesn't bother him. He's getting pretty good at acting.

When he gets home he has twelve more review alerts from FruitLover, and he's been saving them up all day, wants to read them in the quiet of his room, be able to think up answers to the questions and then think up questions of his own. This is a more serious exchange of information. The reviews he's left list his favorite line, or something that made him laugh out loud, or a particularly hot paragraph. It's nice reading reviews on his older stuff, and FruitLover seems to get his slightly odd sense of humor, which he likes. There are so many questions so he opens up a word document to type his answer.

_**Wow dude. That's a lot of reviews and questions. You must be -really- bored. Sorry that you're sick though. My favorite author should be obvious. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Followed by Ian Fleming I suppose. Then there's some modern fiction which I like, but I don't read much anymore, just what I need to.**_

_**I have read the Harry Potter books. I'm a secret Drarry shipper. That's Harry and Draco Malfoy together. Just pretend they're gay okay? There's something about their relationship that I can relate to. And the actors are kind of hot.**_

_**I don't have any pets. My mom is allergic, although I'm moving in with my dad permanently, so I could now I suppose. Except for the fact I'm leaving for college in like five months. **_

_**If I could only eat one type of food for the rest of my life? That would be a form of torture. I don't know how long I'd want to live for. But if I just said Asian food would you let me get away with that? I mean, that covers sushi and curries and Chinese… yeah. I could live with that I think.**_

_**I have an older sister who I see like once a year. Twice if I'm lucky. Her and my mom don't get on. Well, it's more my stepdad, who is a complete asshole, but yeah. She's cool. Well, she tries to be.**_

_**I don't wear cologne. I have some though. My sister got me some for Christmas. I feel totally gay when I put it on though, so I don't wear it. Smells okay I guess?**_

_**Perfect date? Dude. I don't need perfect. I'll just settle for -a- date. I know what I'd want to do to make it romantic, but I don't know, I wouldn't ever expect it back. Is that weird?**_

_**I don't know what I want to do with my life. That's a HUGE question. One I don't know the answer to yet. I'll let you know as soon as I do. **_

_**I play sports in my spare time. I enjoy it, it gives me some level of activity so my ass doesn't start resembling my computer chair. Everything else I do in my spare time you're currently reading.**_

_**I take my coffee with as much milk and sugar needed to hide the taste of the coffee. I'm not a huge fan of coffee, but with the number of late nights I sometimes have coffee is my friend. As is the amount of sugar I put in it probably.**_

_**Uh, this is kind of already answered. Yeah. Both my parents are alive. Divorced. Mom remarried. **_

_**My biggest fear? Being outed at high school. Makes me break out in a cold sweat and want to run to the nearest bathroom. That or my parents disowning me when I come out. They're both up there.**_

_**Finally a juicy question. Which I don't know the answer to. I mean, I'm pretty sure touching myself and having someone else touch me would result in a completely different response. You would know better than me, actually having had sex. I think about it all the time though, another guy touching me, seeking out where I'm the most responsive, taking his time to explore every inch of me. That's what I want to do, run my fingers all over, find every little mole, freckle and scar, kiss them, find out the stories behind them, leave a few marks of my own.**_

_**I'd want time. Lots and lots of time. I don't want to have to rush. We'd both need to jerk off first, get rid of that really tight high level of tension and arousal you know. But watching a guy get off, having him watch me, knowing that afterwards we're going to do it all over again but by touching each other. I'd want to lick his come off him, learn what it tastes like. We wouldn't even be planning to have sex, just hand jobs, or blowjobs for our first time together and I just like the idea of this level of honesty, lying naked with someone, watching them, learning what they like to do to themselves. **_

_**It's because it's all new that I want to take my time. I might find out that I really have a thing for toes, or fingers, or ears. Because while I'm discovering all this about his body, I'm learning all these things about myself at the same time. Like I'm pretty sure that a guy's hipbone has got to be one of the sexiest things ever, and I really want to lick along the ridge and bump, nibble on it, see how sensitive the guy beneath me is, but it's… academic knowledge. Like, I know the sun is hot. But I haven't -felt- that heat, just some watered down weaker version over millions of miles. And sometimes I want to feel that heat so badly it just consumes me.**_

He's hard. He's had to adjust himself while typing, and now he can feel his erection pushing against the fabric of his underwear and he rereads his own words, tries to imagine a guy that would want to be with him like that. Doesn't matter. He can have whoever he wants in the privacy of his own head, and while he has no idea what FruitLover looks like, he pulls images from every guy he thinks is hot, because he _imagines_ the guy is hot. He comes across as a guy not unashamed of his looks anyway.

He moves to his bed, unbuttoning and pulling down his jeans, palming his cock, his mind filling with images of doing this with someone else, watching them. Having them watch him. He knows realistically that his first time will probably most likely be drunken fumblings when he can't stop and thinking about it, but what he's written is what he _wants_. The likelihood of it happening is slim to none, but it doesn't stop him from hoping. He closes his eyes, ears straining to make sure that if the front door opens he can move painfully, but necessarily, fast.

Fingers dry and warm, curled around himself, starting off with a fairly gentle grip that he increases every few strokes. He reaches out to his bedside table, hand scrambling for the middle draw and close around the small pump bottle. _Best_ invention ever. He squeezes out a small amount, this stuff is his favorite, with a little going a long way. The lube warms quickly, and the slick slide of it feels _good_. He lets the top half of his body fall back onto his bed and he imagines what it would sound like having a guy doing this beside him, whether it would be high breathy moans or deeper gasps and grunts like his own. The sounds of flesh against flesh would be intensified, and he hopes if this ever does happen for him there will be whispered words as well.

He moves his hand faster, feels all his previously relaxed muscles tensing. He doesn't want to draw this out, he can do that tonight, when there's no chance of interruptions, and his mind provides image after image, naked guys, guys he's seen in the porn he watches, his imagination of what Kurt looks like naked, and Blaine and even Sebastian from the club. All three of them together. On his bed with him and all jerking themselves off. He'd never want it in reality (at least he doesn't think so), but the sheer thought of it has him coming, panting as his orgasm rolls through his body and he shudders, letting himself relax again. Fuck it feels good. He cleans up, has to change his shirt and wash his hands before he goes to use his computer again.

_**Fuck. I just had to jerk off. Felt amazing. **_

_**SEND**_

Oh fuck. He really hadn't meant to do that. Fuckity fuck _fuck_. God he wishes there was an undo button for life. He wants to take it back, rewind and not click on send. He lets his head hit his desk and groans in annoyance. He's so stupid sometimes. He looks at the screen and knows that's nothing for it.

_**Shit. Sorry. That's probably TMI for a Monday afternoon. Didn't mean to embarrass you or anything. Sorry again.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: **I have been on holiday for a week (without internet or phone coverage). Sorry if I haven't replied to your review but I figured spending the time writing would be more appreciated then responding to reviews.

_**Dave writing**_

_Kurt writing_

* * *

><p><strong>PART EIGHT<strong>

His skin is prickly and hot, he feels tremble-y and his entire body is shivery-tingling as it comes down from whatever height his orgasm catapulted him up to. His fever probably isn't helping matters, but _god_, that was intense. HookedonHope's writing, describing what he wants, the slow gentle pace and touching, the build-up. Then _that_ line. He'd been getting turned on reading, but that one line had him groaning, rubbing his cock through his pajama pants. The thought that HookedonHope got turned on writing these words, private words just to him, not out on the internet for anyone to read. It's more than simply arousing. A writing kink. He didn't even know that type of kink existed. Or is it a reading kink? Whatever it is, he has it in _spades_.

He needs to clean up, and then he needs to somehow gather the energy to type, although his entire body is aching, and he's used whatever reserve of energy he had to jerk off. Funny how he could find the energy for _that_. He shakes his head as he looks at his reflection in the mirror, color high on his cheeks, forehead damp and hair curling slightly where it's touched his skin. He has a sip of water and his throat still burns. He hops back into bed in clean pajamas just seconds before his dad comes in to check on him, and he feels a little guilty when his dad looks even more worried than yesterday. He's told to rest and that some soup will be brought up shortly.

He reads HookedonHope's answers again, filing away the pieces of information. He kind of wants to know big stuff, like what his name is, where he lives, but if someone asked him that online he'd cut off all communication, and that's the last thing he wants to happen. Maybe in time, when they know each other better, because he kind of feels stupid calling him HookedonHope all the time in his head. He makes himself comfortable, and it's a bit awkward because he has to plug in his laptop to charge but he manages.

_For most people it's probably TMI for any morning, afternoon or evening no matter the day of the week. However I am not most people. Please don't stop sharing. It's hot. I invested in some proper lubricant as per your advice. You're a wise man. You don't have any questions for me though?_

He doesn't expect an immediate response, but he gets one and he's glad there's no one else in the room, because he can feel the grin on his face almost splitting it in half.

_**I figured I might as well make sure you were still talking to me before putting the effort in. Are you feeling any better?**_

_Is that a question? I'm still not great, so will probably need another day off school. My dad's fussing and making me soup. He's a worrier._

_**My dad too. Requirement of being a parent I think. So I get to ask you thirteen questions huh?**_

_You can ask me as many questions as you like, I'm kind of over the piecemeal information, I like knowing things about you. Talking to you. Chatting? Writing?_

He hopes he's not coming across as too forward, but coming up with the questions, finding the line between personal but not private, was harder than he thought. He wants to discuss everything, anything and nothing with him. He kind of wishes he'd discovered this outlet years ago, being able to talk anonymously to someone, share everything with them with no shame. He's pretty sure rejection would feel just as bad online as in real life, but it doesn't stop him enjoying it and reveling in the lack of expectation.

_**I like chatting to you too. But I'm asking my thirteen questions anyway. You have an unfair advantage with all that information about me.**_

_Fine with me. I have nothing better to do. Fire away._

_**Favorite actor and why. (I accept 'because he's hot' as a valid reason BTW). Do you want to get married one day? What's your best/happiest memory? Favorite pastime? Something no one else knows about you. Favorite food? Favorite piece of clothing? Do you want to travel? Favorite piece of stationary and why. If you could live in any city which one would you choose? What made you choose the user name FruitLover? What attracts you to a guy? And finally, why is reading my fic better than sex?**_

Kurt blinks. That's a lot of questions, and he struggled every single time to come up with a question to ask HookonHope, but he's apparently got an abundance of them.

_Did you just rattle those off the top of your head or have you been thinking about them for a while._

_**A bit of both. Now quit stalling and trying to censor your response. Just let it flow. I want to know.**_

_Okay. Well, for a start there is not a single actor that I hold over any others. Some are good looking, but it really depends on my mood. I prefer talent over looks if I am being entertained. I am starting to realize that there's no one thing that I find attractive, but a guy being good at something, that kind of turns me on. The confidence that he knows what he's doing. It's kind of sexy. As for marriage, of course I want to get married. I hope that wherever I end up living it's legal, because the fact that it isn't is something that just grates against my nerves, and I could get on my soapbox and wave my fist at the world, but that kind of gets tiring._

_My favorite pastime is designing clothes. And singing. And I can almost see you roll your eyes through the computer at me. I enjoy them, but sometimes I wish I didn't, and that's what no one else knows. I wish that I wasn't a walking talking stereotype that people seem to look at and just slot into this gay shaped hole in their heads. I'm more than just a guy who is gay, but people seem to think it's the biggest facet of my personality, and I know I have a little bit of myself to blame for it because I totally play it up sometimes, okay, a lot of the time, but I wish that sometimes I could just be normal. And if that's not possible then I wish people could be more accepting and stop side-eyeing me like I'm some tropical bird._

_My favorite food is pizza, but I don't eat it very often because as much as I like it, it doesn't like me. But sometimes I really just want some. Again people seem to think I have this fear of junk food, but I don't. I can't eat it every day, because I'd feel horrible. This is almost going to turn into one long rant about why I don't like my life. But I do like my life, it's pretty good now. I have a family and friends, a college acceptance letter to a college I didn't think I'd have a chance at a few months ago. Things are good. But I think I'm one of these people that always wants more. Always wants things to be better. When reality hits me I can be a bit of a bitch._

He sends the start of it off, wondering if he should wait for a reply

_I don't have a single piece of clothing either, I like variety and dressing to suit my mood. I do have a pair of jeans that I turn to at least once a week, because my ass looks great in them. Or I feel that it looks good at least. And I definitely want to travel. Paris. Milan. London. New York as well, but I assume you mean abroad and not within our borders. _

_Favorite piece of stationary? Is this some sort of psychological question that has a deep meaning? I've never given stationary much thought. I like pens. I suppose I like the way my hand feels graceful when I hold one. Do you ever write with a pen? Or just type? I would live in any city that has a strong theatre and fashion scene. New York ideally because I wouldn't want to be too far from my family, but I'd love to live in London or Paris for a while, just to get a taste of the life and culture there. _

_As for FruitLover, well, that was kind of an accident. So many of the names I tried first had already been taken and I was starting to get annoyed and I was eating some fruit at the time and then…it was available and I was at the next step and I figured it would never matter. It's not like it's close to my real name. What about HookedonHope? It's kind of poetic, almost like a saying or mantra. It's better than mine in every single way, that's for sure, because it seems to actually mean something. _

He looks at the final two questions, licks his lips and takes a deep breath. He's already kind of answered the first one, but he kind of wants to expand a bit on it, and as for the last questions, he's not exactly sure why it's better, it just is. He _liked_ sex with Blaine, didn't think there was anything lacking. Now he knows there was, but he's not sure_ what_ exactly it is. Since his introduction to fanfiction just over two weeks ago he's gone from jerking off to every three or four days to suddenly needing to do it twice a day minimum, sometimes even three times. He's never before been so sexually active and it's with his own _hand_.

_Like I said before there's no one thing I find attractive in guys. My first crush was on a jock, but in retrospect I think it was a combination of factors. He was nice to me at a time in my life when even the smallest kindness meant a lot. I blew it out of proportion and inflated it in my head, but guys that are sweet and treat me well definitely have the odds in their favor. I kind of liked guys that were physically bigger than me, but with there being a shortage of eligible gay teenagers I finally met another gay student by pure happenstance. He was nice to me too, and after several theme park rides of emotions we became boyfriends. And now we're just friends. But he was shorter than me, smaller. So I don't know if I have a type, but the common theme seems to be confidence in themselves, and treating me well. What about you, do you think you have a type yet or still too early to tell?_

_As for the last question. Well. In the interest of full disclosure I jerked off reading what you'd written before, you have a way with words which… seems to affect me more than a real live person does. That sounds terrible but I don't know why! Before you go bashing my boyfriend again, I liked the sex fine, but… to put it in perspective, and please note that I'm only sharing this with you because we will never meet and if we do you just have to pretend you don't know me okay? In the last two weeks I have jerked off to your fics more times than I have ever had sex. And like I said, I can't pinpoint exactly why, and trust me, if I knew I'd tell you. I'll think about it though, and let you know if I figure it out. You obviously like writing and reading as well, but just don't have a frame of reference to compare it to sex yet._

As he sends the message he hopes that it doesn't seem rude, but he feels he has a point. He can compare reading to sex. And maybe sex with Blaine was simply mediocre and makes a poor frame of reference, but it's still better than nothing.

_**How many times?**_

He blushes and counts in his head, staggered when he hits thirty and swallows when he comes up with the final number. Maybe he's a late bloomer and _that's_ why he has this sudden incessant need to get off all the time because surely this is unhealthy, or at the least bordering on obsessive.

_37._

_**Huh. Once for each fic. That's pretty good going. For the record, I don't usually jerk off while writing. Or reading. Afterwards, sure. But I tend to conjure images in my head, or watch porn. I like visual stimulation. I try and create images with my words, and you're good for my ego because with 37 times I'm obviously doing something right. *wink***_

_You are -definitely- doing something right. And I know I'm not alone in thinking that. So…_

_**So…**_

_This is what the questions were for, to break the ice. Except our ice has effectively melted and evaporated seeing as we pretty much took part in a two-person circle jerk over a piece of your writing. And I know it wasn't knowingly on your part, but for me, knowing you'd written that and then… jerked off, was the cincher. I'd say we know each other pretty well considering the anonymous nature of this form of medium to communicate. So, talk to me. Tell me what you think your type might be._

_**To be completely pessimistic a guy that likes me is my type of guy. I'm not exactly what you'd consider Hollywood material so I don't think I can afford to be picky. And it's all a moot point until I come out anyway because finding a guy, or dating him while not out, kind of defeats the purpose of hiding it in the first place.**_

_Who told you that you aren't Hollywood material?_

_**You mean apart from society? **_

_Erg. Don't get me started on -them-. I thought you said you played sports… you're not a jock?_

_**I suppose I am, I play hockey and football for school. Don't go imagining rippled abs or anything though. I'm built to knock people down or stop them getting through and may have been called chubby a couple of times.**_

Kurt sits back and looks at the words, and he suddenly feels so sad for the guy. He knows what it's like to be self-conscious about your body, and every day he has to ignore the niggling little voice in the back of his head that sounds like Coach Sylvester telling him he has hips like a pear or needs to lose weight. He's healthy. That's his bottom line and the most important thing.

_That's very honest. I don't know a single person who thinks their body is perfect though. Me included, although I do my best to act like I think it is. I wouldn't make it through the day if I didn't._

_**I lie enough every day without lying on here. This is where I get to be myself. No lies. And I'm starting to accept that I'm not a completely horrible monster. One day…**_

_Well, in my experience, people that throw names around like that do it because they're insecure about something in themselves, so I wouldn't believe a single word they said._

_**Yeah, that works in theory, however he's actually seen me in person and all you know of me are my words, so unfortunately I'm going to have to take his word over yours for now. No offence.**_

_None taken. But one day you'll know I'm right._

_**I hope so.**_


	9. Chapter 9

**PART NINE**

His week progresses normally up until Thursday night when he gets home from school and his dad is already home, waiting for him. They had the dreaded conversation with his mother, and as per his prediction, she'd cried, and he'd kind of pointed out that he was leaving for college soon anyway, and he needed to learn to be independent and that it's a good thing, but it hadn't stopped her tears and her whole '_my little baby growing up'_ and her little glare at his dad like it was his idea. He'd phoned his sister, something he's never done before, and she'd been surprised but happy to hear from him and it had been good talking to her. Right now though, his dad is studying him across the island in the kitchen, eyes serious and a bit sad and he's suddenly filled with worry that maybe his dad is sick, or lost his job, or doesn't actually want him living here all the time after all.

"You okay dad?"

"I'm fine David. Fine. I just… I want to know something."

Silence stretches between them and he's a thousand types of fluttery sick in his stomach, terrified of what might be coming.

"Are you gay?"

In the silence it seems like the words have been shouted. Everything seems to slow down, go cold and he's pretty sure he needs to go and throw up. His legs are shaking and he braces himself with his arms, needing the physical support. _Crunch time_. It's now. Now now now. He swallows and nods silently, and he can't look at him, can't bear to see the look on his face, be it disappointment or disgust or combination.

"Okay. That's… okay. I wondered. You know I love you right?"

He jerks his head in what he hopes is some semblance of a nod and he can't believe he's crying, and he's trying to hide that fact, keeping his head down, because his dad and him have never been big on emotions, but he prefers his dad's quiet steady presence rather than his mom's flighty overly-emotional state of being.

"Okay. Good. I hope you know I won't tell anyone unless you want me to. That includes your mother. Maybe especially your mother."

He feels some of the tension knotted in his stomach dissipate and he relaxes slightly, wipes his eyes and nose on his sleeve and his dad pretends not to notice.

"I suppose that sex talk I gave you a couple of years ago was completely useless huh?"

"God dad… can we not do this? _Please_?" _Because I'm pretty sure I know all I need to know about gay sex to get me started. It's not rocket science and I'm not an idiot._ But he gets that his dad is trying to lighten the mood, and that thought has him laughing, but it has a hysterical edge, and he's laughing and crying again and then his dad's arms around him, tight and too brief before dropping away.

"I ask because I care. I want you to be… safe and…"

"I get it dad. Don't worry, I kind of need several other things to happen before sex even becomes an issue."

"Oh. Okay. You want to go out for dinner?"

"Yeah, that'd be cool." Anything so they don't have to talk.

Dinner turns into bowling and he lets himself enjoy it, feels relaxed for the first time around his dad in close to two years like he's no longer hiding this lie from him and he can't believe how good it feels. Not that he really came out, per se, and he still hasn't ever said the words aloud. Written them many times, but it's like saying them gives them some power, which is ridiculous, because it's imagined power and he's giving it to them against his will. One day he'll shout it from the tops of mountains or buildings, but until then, typing it out and nodding when his dad asks.

"Did you uh… being gay have something to do with wanting to move?" His dad asks in the car on the way home and Dave turns to him and shrugs.

"Yeah. I knew you'd… not freak out. Figured you might not like it, but you wouldn't kick me out or call me a freak or any other name. Mom and Adrian are… different."

His dad snorts at that and Dave bites his lip. He was too young when they divorced to really know the reasons, but looking at them now he can't even imagine them ever being together. His dad is quiet, but pretty laid back and while not liberal exactly, he's an each-to-his-own kind of guy. His mom is loud and can be a bit obnoxious. He loves both of them, but his dad is much easier to live with. Even easier now that he doesn't need to hide such a big part of himself, although he's pretty sure things are going to continue along with the status quo. He needs to share it when he gets home, so makes a brief blog post about it and then messages FruitLover. It's the first time he's instigated conversation out of nothing, but he's pretty sure he won't mind.

_**I just came out to my dad. Well. Not exactly. He asked if I was gay and I didn't say no. Fuck. I thought I was going to vomit all over him. Scariest thing ever. Feels good now though.**_

_That's a bit presumptuous isn't it? What if you weren't? Congratulations though, that's great._

_**I'm pretty sure I'd have been able to say something rather than stand there like a dumb fuck he wouldn't have believed me anyway. I think he thought I was going to tell him on Saturday. Anyway, fuck it feels good. **_

_You swear a lot._

Dave stares at the words, feels like he's suddenly been slapped and feels a trickle of doubt.

_**You said you were a teenage guy. We all swear a lot.**_

_I didn't mean it as a negative thing. Just an observation. I don't swear much. _

_**Oh. I don't know what to say to that. Sorry?**_

_Ignore me, I'm in a weird mood. Can't believe school is finishing in a couple of weeks and I'm just sitting here wondering what other aspects of my life are going to change. _

_**Every aspect probably. Where you live. Who you're friends with. What you do in your spare time. Everything. Change is scary. But it's mostly good. **_

_Yeah. I know you're right. Just big changes are even scarier._

* * *

><p>Rachel has given up and gone to the movies with Finn, but he's on a mission. He will create a new versatile winter wardrobe suitable for New York if it kills him. And it might. His feet are throbbing at the amount of walking he's done today, but he knows he needs to get it sorted before his funds are significantly less. He'll have to get over the fact that he won't be in season and just own his own style. He can do that. But right now he needs to rest. Needs to put his feet up and in an ideal world have someone massage them.<p>

He orders a coffee and waits for it to be prepared, hopping from one foot to the other trying to give them small alternate rests while he waits. When he's handed his drink he turns to find a seat and the small coffee shop is crowded but he's pretty certain he can spy an empty table… except it isn't empty. He bites his lip. He hasn't seen David Karofsky since Valentine's Day, and he feels a surge of what he's pretty sure is guilt run through him. He'd sort of offered a hand of friendship and then never followed through. To be fair, he'd kind of been involved in his own little personal revelation that he and Blaine were far better suited as friends and then figuring a way to break up with him.

But there he sits, one hand holding a reusable ceramic coffee cup, one of the environmentally friendly ones with a silicon lid, about half a dozen empty sugar packets litter the table, and his eyes are downcast, intent on reading the book in front of him. He's wearing glasses, which he's never imagined David would need, and he's dressed all in black, a dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hmm… he kind of wonders what things would be like if they were different, and he's just standing there, still torn between the decision to go and sit with him or turn and walk away. Someone bumps him from behind, forcing him to take a step forward to steady himself and he goes with it, walks toward him filled with trepidation. He'd completely understand if Dave never wanted to talk to him again, and he prepares himself for potential anger and/or rejection.

"Hello David. Do you mind if I join you?"

His head snaps up so fast, eyes wide that it's almost comical and he smiles, trying to not look as nervous as he feels. Behind his glasses Dave's eyes appear much greener than he remembers, and dressed all in black like he is it reminds him of the gorilla suit, except more streamlined, because he's sure that suit must have added fifty pounds. He's still big though, and he's straightening in his chair, eyes haven't left his face and then he nudges out the other chair with his foot and offers a minute little shrug. He sits and David closes his book, leaving it face down on the table, and it's a bit odd seeing someone reading an actual book these days with the availability of e-readers.

It's awkward. _Painfully_ awkward. He has no idea what to say, and David looks like he's experiencing the same problem. Things aren't easy between them, and he doesn't know if they ever will be with their history, but he wants to make it right, if only because David has clearly tried so hard to accept his sexuality. He supposes the fact that they're even sitting there is another positive step. He sips his coffee and smiles at Dave again, wondering what, if anything, they could ever talk about.

"Kurt! Hey! And Karofsky… hi." Blaine's eyes flick to him, eyebrows both raised in question and he wants to roll his eyes. Blaine is as subtle as a rainbow colored slinky. Although at least now with three people conversation might flow easier, although Blaine is looking ten types of uncomfortable.

"Hi Blaine. Grab a chair and join us…"

"Uh, here, have mine. I was just leaving. My break's over anyway… I'll uh, see you around Kurt."

He leaves so quickly Kurt doesn't even have time to reply and he's starting to get used to David walking away from him, and he doesn't particularly like people walking away from him, weird as it is.

"What were you doing having coffee with him?" Blaine asks, sliding into the chair opposite and he sighs, wondering what he can even say that makes sense.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note**: Aetherita is writing something for this story, and I can't say too much more without giving it away. I'll leave you to your speculations. You have 4 chapters to place your bets.

_**Dave writing**_

_Kurt writing_

* * *

><p><strong>PART TEN<strong>

He's not sure whether he's in a funk because of seeing Kurt or whether seeing Kurt has put him in a funk. When he gets home he writes like he's possessed, churning out two chapters of one of his stories in a couple of hours. No smut, but more angsty drama which is pretty much unnecessary, but it helps him process some of his current thoughts and feelings. He might not even use the chapters, but right now he's able to identify that he's confused.

His feelings for Kurt, the deep knowledge that he's in love with him, is something he knows is a base truth in his life, even if Kurt refuses to accept it. It doesn't make it any less true. He'd never thought that he was gay, just that he hadn't met the right girl. When he'd seen Kurt Hummel walking toward him one day in freshman year he'd felt his world stop. And then spent the rest of the year in quiet denial, hoping against hope that it was just Kurt Hummel he was attracted to. It wasn't, and that's why he's been scared shitless for the last three and a half years of his life.

Denial hadn't worked. So sophomore year he'd tried _not_-so- quiet denial and it had only made things worse. Junior year he'd swung between wanting to erase Kurt's sheer existence, to wanting to just grab him and kiss him. And he knows how badly all that worked out. Before Junior year physical violence has never been part of his nature off the field or rink, and he knows what he'd resorted to was wrong, but his frustration, fear and anger had coalesced into lashing out. At the wrong person and his friends, ensuring their animosity; probably for the rest of his life.

Kurt has always drawn out the worst in him, but he knows without his inner fears, Kurt would bring out the best in him. Now he feels like he's made things as right between him and Kurt as possible, resigned himself to forever carrying an unrequited torch and hoping that the best he gets from Kurt is indifference. He doesn't want a pity party thrown for him, and he's pretty sure that's what Kurt had been trying to do earlier.

_**Do you believe in karma?**_

He hovers over the 'send private message' button and he sighs, contemplates deleting it and then clicks anyway. He's sent worse and far more personal things to FruitLover, but they've generally stayed away from really deep stuff, keeping it fairly light, friendly and well, if he's honest, and he's trying to be honest… some of the messages are smutty. He's pretty sure he could convince FruitLover to create an AIM account or something so they could chat properly but the way things work now is comfortable and he's got enough change going on in his real life at the moment without mixing it up online as well. Although if FruitLover suggests it he'll jump at the chance.

OAA

It's odd, but even after David has left he stays on his mind. Blaine is talking about a new guy he has met and the fact he has a date tonight. He doesn't even feel a pang that he's single, a fact he kind of likes, being independent and _happy_ that he's single. He's done the boyfriend in high school thing, and while it hasn't worked out the ease in which him and Blaine have slipped back into being friends and discussing other guys is clearly indicative that their friendship is much stronger than their romantic relationship ever was.

He heads home, his feet still aching and sorts out a mini-foot-spa. He knows there's meant to be a new chapter tonight, but the times which HookedonHope updates vary. He turns his e-mail alerts volume on, and relaxes, taking the time to massage his feet, although the touch is almost painful. He's left his shopping in their bags, it's only going to be packed away anyway when he moves to New York, and he kind of wants to start packing already, but not. It's a massive final step, moving out of home, even knowing he'll be back at every opportunity.

*BING*

He almost drops his phone in the foot spa in his rush to pick it up, and that would be disastrous. He almost expects it to only be an e-mail alert for Facebook or something but it's not. A message from HookedonHope. Five words and he re-reads them and slides his phone back onto the vanity. He dries his feet, cutting the foot spa short, but he's not going to type a reply on his phone. He thinks over the question as he starts up his computer and sits down, curling his now slightly-less-sore feet beneath him.

_Karma. That bad people deserve bad things to happen to them? Well, I'd like to believe in it. But sometimes the opposite seems true. Nothing bad seems to happen to them. And bad stuff happens to good people all the time. It's like believing in reincarnation, and that good and bad deeds follow you forward. I'd hate to think I wouldn't start off with a fresh slate each time, but I'd like to think that if karma and reincarnation and things like that do exist then I haven't led such a bad life so far. I'm not perfect, but I try to be a good person, and treat others with respect, but sometimes other people are idiots and it's hard._

He sends the message and the re-reads it and cringes. He sounds flippant and he's pretty sure HookedonHope meant it seriously. He sighs and starts typing again.

_Sorry. I didn't mean for that to sound like it did. I don't care what people believe as long as they don't expect me to believe it as well. I think everyone should treat others the way they wish to be treated, but that's incredibly idealistic. I suppose I am a bit cynical with being out in high school and the things I've had to deal with because of that. Has something happened?_

He hadn't thought before, that maybe something has happened to HookedonHope, something bad, and he bites his lip. Apart from this tenuous connection through this website he has no way of knowing he's alright and he feels a little ridiculous that he cares so much, but he's gone from just caring about the stories updating to caring more about the author and whether he's okay. He's obviously okay enough to be typing and sending messages, but that's not always a true indication that someone is okay.

_**I'm fine. Nothing has happened. Just me having a drama queen moment. Apparently I'm just as able to have them as the next gay guy. Who knew?**_

_Are you sure? I'm here if you need to talk. About anything._

_**Thanks, but I got that covered with some of my other online friends. **_

Kurt stares at the words and feels rejected and rebuffed in a way he'd never have expected over the internet.

_**Sorry, I mean, they've known me longer, know some of the shit I've dealt with. It's in my past mostly and I'd rather not bring it all up again if that's okay? It's not that I don't want to share it with you, it's just… not something I like talking about.**_

_Maybe some other time then?_

_**Maybe.**_

OAA

Monday at school he goes in early, wanting to hit the gym as per his training schedule, zoning out, listening to his iPod blast some heavy punk rock and when a shadow passes over him he startles, and Nick is looming over him and he swallows nervously. The intensity with which Nick is staring at him is kind of unnerving and he's suddenly aware that he's alone with a guy significantly larger than him, and holy shit, how did Kurt follow him into the locker that time? He clearly has none of the adrenaline or balls that Kurt clearly had running after him and his heart speeds up, glad he's already sweating because it hides the fact he's just broken into a cold sweat.

"Hey man, how's it going?" He asks, pulling his ear buds out, because it's easier than trying to turn the things down or off with sweaty hands. He needs to play it cool.

"Fine. Good," Nick states, and he sits down on the bench opposite him, still watching him intently before glancing around quickly. "Look man, I gotta ask. Are you gay?"

He blinks. His heart is in his throat already and he's pretty sure he's going to throw up but the calm way Nick has asked the question makes him pause. Nick checked to ensure they were alone before he asked, so… he takes in a deep shuddery breath. Maybe things aren't so bad.

"Look man, I don't care if you are. And you don't have to say anything. I get it. I asked my brother and he said to not scare you or some shit."

"Is your brother gay?" Dave asks, and his hands are shaking slightly.

"What? No!"

The curled lip, pulling back and face distorting in disgust. There's the homophobia he's come to expect. Although, given his personal history… he hopes Nick isn't trying to hit on him or something, because that would be awkward.

"Then why exactly are you asking me? Alone? It's pretty suspicious."

"Dude. I'm not gay. Neither is my brother. But my brother's best friend is gay, and he's _like_ a brother. I'm not stupid man. I saw you on Valentine's Day, and you haven't actually come out and told me you _aren't_ gay. So, are you gay?"

"What is this? Ask me if I'm gay week?" Dave mutters, glancing around, but the room is still surprisingly empty. First his dad and now this… whatever this is. "I'm not saying it. But I'm not…" he pauses and takes another deep breath. "I'm not denying it either."

Nick nods and stands up again, rubbing his hands on his pants.

"Right. Sweet. Okay dude. I'm not going to tell anyone or anything okay?"

"Yeah. I've heard that before," Dave shrugs, but the fact that Nick hasn't said anything about Valentine's Day for the last two and a half months means he probably means what he says.

"John just thought you might need a friend or something, he said that when Rob came out to him he was terrified, and figured you probably are too. Is it why you transferred?"

Dave snorts in bemusement, because if only things were that simple.

"You want to hear the full story?" Nick nods. "Then you might want to sit down again, it's kind of long."

Nick sits back down and he explains what he did at McKinley, the bullying, the Bullywhips, Valentine's Day, Kurt… Nick listens, laughs at bits and stares at him with the same intense look he's been sporting ever since Valentine's Day.

"Dude. That's… screwed up. But I think you already know that. I get it though, I used to bully kids as well, and then John pretty much hit me round the head. And I don't mean that in a metaphorical way, he took his shoe and hit he on the side of the head with it. He's… a good role model, and if you want to talk to him, or Rob, just let me know. They're both at college, but there's Facebook and shit."

This is the last thing he expected when he came to school today, but he feels the most relaxed he has in ages. He can tell Nick isn't completely okay with him being gay, but is obviously trying and he kind of wishes he had an older brother that could have hit him around the head before he'd gotten to such a bad place with Kurt. He's pretty sure his life would be a completely different story now if that was the case.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note**: Man this is fun to write. I have never enjoyed writing a fic so much. Thanks for reading (and hopefully enjoying).

_**Dave writing**_

_Kurt writing_

* * *

><p><strong>PART ELEVEN<strong>

"I've noticed you've been spending a lot of time on your computer. Extra school work?" His dad asks, and he freezes, because he doesn't lie to his dad. Well, he tries his best not to, and it's not like he's been doing anything illegal…

"Um. No. Not really. Just the normal amount of homework. I've just found… something I like doing online."

His dad stops, looks uncomfortable and refuses to meet his eye and Kurt's eye widen as he realizes his dad thinks he's talking about _porn_.

"No! Dad! It's not like that. It's not porn, I'm _not_ watching porn!" _Reading maybe…_

"Kurt. I don't need to know buddy, I just… Actually, I _really_ don't want to know. You're a teenage boy, and now that you're single –"

"Dad! I'm… oh my god, this is a horrible conversation…"

"Yeah well, it ain't no picnic for me," Burt mutters and Kurt knows his cheeks are as red as his dad's. "I just don't want you to get all… withdrawn."

"I'm… reading stuff online. It's… it's called fanfiction. You know when you read a book and you kind of wonder what happens to one of the side characters, or what would have happened if one key point had gone in a completely different way? Well, there are all these stories that people have written, and it's _amazing_. I read a lot of it when I was sick last week. Anyway… I'm just reading stuff."

"Hmm. You're not telling me everything. But…" his dad lets out a long sigh. "You're old enough to make your own decisions. Just… be safe."

"Dad… I'm not being stupid. I might have, kind of, made friends with one of the authors of some of the stories…"

"You… friends like how?" Burt asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"He's my age, gay, and we… talk. Well, type. It's… nice to have someone else to talk to. He's funny and smart. But I'm not an idiot. We haven't exchanged names, or even which state we're from, although I've figured we're both in the Eastern timezone… he… I'd consider him a friend. We talk about stuff. He only just came out to his dad like last week… that type of stuff."

"Oh… okay. Well, you just be careful. Sounds like you're being sensible."

"Of course. You haven't raised an idiot."

"I know…" His dad wraps his arms around him and he relishes the warm smell of machine oil that will forever and always remind him of his dad. "You home for dinner tonight?"

"Of course. I'm cooking. Giving Carole the night off, and making sure you don't sneak any extra slices of cheese when you think she isn't looking," Kurt says, poking his dad in the stomach. He laughs and pulls away before pushing him in the direction of the kitchen.

"I'll see you later buddy, just going to check the garage."

He waves and watches his dad drive away, setting about poaching some chicken, oven-roasting some tomatoes and boiling some pasta. He's come to learn that pasta is his friend when he needs to feed Finn, and some low-fat cheese makes everyone happy. He works quickly, making a salad and then preparing a combined chicken, pasta, tomato and cheese dish for Finn and his dad. He sets a timer and goes and gets his laptop, setting it up on the dining table so he can attend to dinner and also send a message to HookedonHope. He almost knows his schedule, what days he has football training, or hockey, and games always mean chapters will be a bit later, although there aren't any more games now really, just fun scrimmages or something.

_I told my dad about you tonight._

_**-What?-**_

_Well. Not specifics obviously, but in broad general terms. That you write fanfic and are a gay teenager like myself and just came out to your dad. He has a soft spot for you already, although of course got all stranger-danger on me for a brief second before remembering exactly how old I am. _

_**You told your dad about fanfic?**_

_Well, again, not the specifics. Just that there are stories that I like to read._

_**So you completely glossed over the 'I jerk off while reading about guys fucking each other' bit? I can understand that, I'd gloss over it too. LOL**_

_Yeah. I don't think my dad needs to know details like that. I'm pretty sure he was pretty convinced I was watching porn anyway._

_**Porn has its uses. I have to get my inspiration from somewhere. *wink***_

_Well then, maybe it's not all completely terrible, if it inspires you to write what you do. I, however, prefer your written word and fictional characters. _

_**I'll take that as a compliment. So anything else interesting happen today, cause I kind of came out to someone else. Except… not. Again. Man. Seriously. People just keep asking me if I'm gay and… I can't say no anymore.**_

_LOL. It's just as well you -are- gay then, because if they were asking and you were straight then things would get confusing when you brought a girlfriend home for the first time. Was it your mom this time?_

_**Pfft. Fuck no. Trust me, if it had been her I'd be freaking out a lot more. It was this guy at school. He kind of saw me do something stupid ages ago and has been… I don't know, thinking it over. Anyway, his brother's best friend is gay and he kind of offered… friendship I suppose. It was weird. And awkward. He's kind of one of those straight guys that wants to be okay with gay guys but really doesn't seem to get it. At least he's willing to try though. More mature than most guys on the team that's for sure.**_

_He's on your team? Are you going to be okay? Are you sure he's not going to tell anyone? Because I really don't like the idea of him suddenly ambushing you with the rest of the team or something. These things happen. Oh god. I wouldn't even know if something did happen. I mean, I realized yesterday that apart from this I have no way of contacting you, and it kind of freaked me out a bit._

_**Dude. Chill. He's not going to say anything. He's known for months and there are only like three weeks of school left. Don't create drama where there isn't any. I'll be fine. But I have a tumblr account, I mean you can check me out there. I post random shit there though, everything from porn to Sherlock stuff, to Sherlock porn. It's not for the faint hearted. But if I suddenly disappear there are people there that can probably track me down. **_

Kurt lets out a long breath. Okay. That's kind of reassuring but also not. He doesn't want to have to track him down if he suddenly disappears off the face of the internet. But he's not exactly sure what else he can do. One of the bells dings in the kitchen and he swears, going in and working quickly. He sets everything up, ready to be served and covered in foil. He needs to set the table, and he does it around his laptop, formulating an answer.

_Okay. So, tumblr. I used to be on that. I'll find you. Sorry, but your talk of karma and bad things happening and, okay, so maybe I'm being a little over dramatic but I just worry. I'm a worrier. You'll just have to deal with it._

_**That's fine. Just as easy to deal with you being paranoid as it is dealing with you being bossy and demanding. *wink* I gotta go cook dinner for my dad. You around after dinner?**_

_Yes. Just been cooking as well actually. Poached chicken and oven-roasted pasta bake with cheese (low fat) for my dad and brother, and salad with some pasta and chicken for myself and step-mom._

There's no answer, and he knows HookedonHope is probably cooking, and he kind of like the idea of a guy being able to cook, he's never been cooked for, not in a couple type way. Sure Blaine and him went out plenty of times, but there's something about someone going to the effort of cooking and creating something that he just finds… attractive. Although only if the results are actually edible, because if he still had any remote attraction to Finn the half-charcoal grilled cheese that he brought him last week when he was sick would have killed it.

He goes to tumblr and then realizes that he doesn't have any idea what address HookedonHope uses. He tries simply HookedonHope and he's lucky, because sure enough, there's porn, and Sherlock, and wow, yeah, more porn.

"I thought you said you weren't looking at porn."

He jumps, his heart beating thundering loud in his chest and he slams his laptop shut. His dad is standing there, eyes questioning but amused and he knows his face must be flaming red.

"We are _not_ talking about this," Kurt instructs as he stands, forcing his legs to move.

"It's fine! I'm sure if I had the internet when I was your age –"

"Ew! Dad! We're not talking about this! Just… no. Dinner's in the oven. I'll be back down when I'm finished dying of mortification!"

He flees to his room to the sound of his dad laughing at him and he kind of wishes that maybe his dad could still be really uncomfortable and awkward, except Blaine has been good in that regard at least, getting his dad used to the idea that he is in fact a teenage boy. Oh god. He has to tell HookedonHope.

_My dad just caught me looking at your tumblr page. The singular most humiliating experience of my short life, and I've had some humiliating experiences, trust me. After me telling him I'm -not- watching porn he comes home to find me looking at porn. I probably shouldn't have been looking at your tumblr page at the dining room table. I'll chat to you later._


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note**: For those of you wondering, the big "reveal" will start in Part 14. At time of posting HookedonHope is a saved URL for someone, StarFruit is an actual blog, which, if you check it out be warned you need to be over 18, and well, it's definitely NSFW (not safe for work), and Kurt being absolutely horrified is very accurate.

_**Dave writing**_

_Kurt writing_

* * *

><p>PART TWELVE<p>

He can't help but burst out laughing when he reads the last two messages from FruitLover. The idea that the poor guy got caught looking at his tumblr page. He goes and has a look, and yep, sure enough there's… porn. Fanart. More porn gifs. Not something he'd want his dad seeing. Although at least now he doesn't have to explain it away, his dad won't be all shocked to see gay porn on his screen. Although, he probably wouldn't have been shocked before either if he's honest about it. His dad is clearly more aware of him than he gives him credit for.

_**Oh, you poor baby. Not only the shock of seeing my tumblr, but your dad catching you as well. Sorry, but that's hilarious. And you clearly need to be more covert if you're going to be checking out tumblr, because it can get seriously dodgy. Especially if you're following me.**_

_Well, apparently you can't die from embarrassment. You just -wish- you were dead. I've created a new tumblr account. My old one has some friends on it, and I don't really want them seeing what I might like, or reblog, or… well, anything really. I like the freedom of this actually… is that what you like so much?_

_**Definitely. It's like everyone knows me, but doesn't know me. If you go through my tumblr just ignore any rants about sport. My team isn't doing so well this year. Actually I changed which team I support. Anyway, I won't bore you with that, because I know you're not interested in that shit. If you secretly are, then I'm sure you can look it up on my blog. What'd you say to your dad anyway?**_

_Nothing! I think he kind of thought it was funny. I've just kind of avoided looking him in the eye all evening. Anyway, your tumblr wasn't -that- shocking. I -have- actually seen a penis that isn't my own before._

_**So have I. *wink***_

_In the flesh, so to speak. I don't think pictures count._

_**Well. No. Probably not. You'd know what it feels like to have a hand on your cock that isn't your own and I can only imagine that at the moment, but I have that. My imagination, and I can -imagine- doing all sorts of things.**_

_Like what?_

He leans back from his computer screen and chews his lips, because fuck that's a loaded question. He runs his fingers across the keyboard, wondering how to reply, whether he's reading too much into it, or whether it really is the come-on he's taking it as, because it would be crossing a line. An invisible line, sure, but a line all the same. There's turning people on remotely, through his fic, that's fine, that's kind of the purpose of it. Finding out FruitLover had jerked off when reading one of his messages, well, it turns him on. This would be taking an active role, and the message system through this website is just not sufficient, if that's what Fruit Lover is even angling for… and despite everything he doesn't even know if he can ask the question.

_**How much time do you have?**_

_For what?_

_**For me to share my imagination with you. I mean… what did you mean exactly?**_

_What?_

Fuck. This is weird. He doesn't want to just come out and ask if he wants to have cybersex, because that's just all sorts of creepy, but if he's going to be turning him on, and have FruitLover jacking off, then he kind of wants it reciprocated. Not in a major way, just something. He doesn't understand why he's so nervous, he's now out to two people in his life in less than a week, he should be able to ask a simple question. Screw it.

_**Do you want me to tell you, in explicit detail, what I imagine touching a cock will feel like? The smell? What I'd want to do and try out? What I imagine I will like and what I -know- I will like? Do you?**_

He lets his head fall into his hands, rubbing at his face, half-expecting to never hear from FruitLover again

_Yes?_

He stares at the one word reply and swallows. Holy shit. At least he seems as unsure about it as he is, and he's kind of torn between telling him now, or waiting until he does actually have time, because right now he's meant to be going out with his dad to the grocery store. Waiting means he's going to be even more nervous, but he'll also have time to think about what he wants to say, because he's pretty sure he's going to be the only one doing any typing.

_**Okay. Well, I can't right now because I have to go out grocery shopping with my dad, but, send me a message through tumblr and I'll figure something out. Something faster than sending messages like this. Probably Chatzy.**_

_Okay. I'll talk to you later. _

OAA

He wonders for a brief second if he's been given the brush off, but he's pretty confident he hasn't been. He's never heard of Chatzy before, but a quick search educates him and that will be interesting, typing and sending his messages instantly, no delay, and wow… this could get really interesting. He goes to tumblr and goes about setting up a completely new account, setting up a new e-mail address as well and it feels like a bit of overkill, but well, it's not like he wants Finn or Mercedes stumbling across it by accident. He has the same issue, trying to find a name that isn't already taken but finally settles on StarFruitLover. He goes through to HookedonHope's tumblr, and he feels slightly stalker-ish, but there's some new information here, stuff he doesn't know.

The most startling piece of information he finds is that HookedonHope has been accepted into NYU. They're both going to New York to study. For all he knows HookedonHope could already live in New York, although no, not with his excited ramblings about leaving muddied backwaters… He can probably work out what State HookedonHope is from if he knew anything about football. Maybe he can ask his dad, because there are quite a few text posts, _long_ text posts that look like they're all about sport. He tries reading them, and yes, they're well written, and he kind of finds it interesting, but he's pretty sure that's only because HookedonHope has written it, not because of some long-repressed love of football. But he has no idea about which teams are which, they all kind of sound familiar after awhile.

He sends a message to HokedonHope, reminding him, half-jokingly, that he did promise protection if he ever ventured on to other websites, because he's never seen this side before. Previously it had all been Rent, Wicked and other musical themed blogs, some of which he hunts out again just so he can scan through them, but this is… _different._ Not in a bad way at all, but there are wonderful pieces of art, more fanfiction and pictures, what he'd swear are photos of John and Sherlock kissing and porn gifs, which he watches half-detached but curious. It's over two hours before he gets a reply message from HookedonHope, and the amount of relief and anticipation he feels is ridiculous. It's already past ten, and he kind of wants to be fully alert if they try… a new form of communication.

OAA

There's something about the name which makes him frown and he searches for it quickly, but it all seems really innocent. Until he enters it as a tumblr blog and _fucking hell_, he doesn't need to see that. He closes the blog and wonders if FruitLover has any idea. Of course not. His message said he needed protection. Newbie. He rolls his eyes as he types, because his mood for writing smut has gone completely out the window.

_**StarFruitLover? Seriously?**_

_What? What's wrong with it? FruitLover and StarFruit were already taken, and it sounds kind of nice… poetic. I like starfruit._

_**Dude. Okay. Fair enough. You don't have to change it, but you might want to check out the Starfruit blog. Just check it out.**_

He sits back and waits, and he feels a laugh rising within him, because he can almost see the horror on FruitLover's face as he gazes upon the unobstructed view of a woman's complete waterworks as it were. He's indifferent. Has seen enough online now that a little pussy isn't going to send him screaming, although in his face like that as soon as he went into the blog was a bit too much for his liking. He _knows_ it's going to be too much for FruitLover.

_Oh my god! Why didn't you warn me? I think I'm blinded for life. _

_**Drama drama. I'm sure you'll live. If you can handle your dad seeing you watching what he thinks is porn then you can handle a picture of a naked pussy. But sure, StarFruitLover is a great name for a blog.**_

_Oh god. I need to change my blog name. _

_**Maybe. It's unique. And it's a conversation starter.**_

_I don't need a conversation starter. I'll fix it tomorrow. _

_**Well, it could just be the asshole, then it would kind of be appropriate…**_

_Shut up. That isn't funny. Oh god, yes it is. Screw it. I'll leave it. You'll always see me in a crowd huh? Picking up weird names from day one._

_**I'm sure it's all part of your charm. Or something.**_

_Definitely something. Anyway, I might have stalked your blog a bit and see that you're going to NYU. Is that definite?_

_**Yep. Start in September. It's kind of scary and exciting all at once.**_

_I know exactly how you feel. Exactly. I'm going to NY to study as well. We're going to be in the same city._

He's stopped breathing reading the last line and he lets it out slowly, can't believe that out of all the places to go and study they're both going to New York. New York is a massive city, but compared to knowing FruitLover is somewhere in the Eastern seaboard to suddenly knowing they will both be in New York in a few short months…

_**Wow. That's… kinda freaky. Maybe we could both walk around wearing a deerstalker until we bumped into each other.**_

_Haha. No. I would never wear a deerstalker everyday. Maybe as a once off or if it suited my outfit. A pin saying 'I believe in Sherlock Holmes' would be better suited don't you think?_

_**For you maybe. I'm going to rock the deerstalker look. **_

_I'd kind of completely forgotten about the deerstalker in the program. They don't make a big deal out of it._

_**Have you read the books?**_

_Will you hate me if I say no?_

_**LOL. No. Well maybe just a little. I love the books. You'd probably get a lot more enjoyment out of my fics if you had a better understanding of the characters. The series as well. They did a really good job interpreting the books and converting it to modern day. I try and include little bits in my stories for real hardcore fans.**_

_Sorry. Not a hardcore fan. _

_**Yeah, I'd kind of figured that one out. That's fine. But you should read at least one of the books. Or collections of short stories. I'd recommend either A Study in Scarlett or The Hound of the Baskervilles**__** as the novel, and The Complete Sherlock Holmes Short Stories. Any one of those would be a good start. Try it. I'd like to know what you think.**_

_Okay. Is it available electronically?_

_**Yeah. But you could buy the book and walk around NY with it and I could see if I could find you that way.**_

_You never know, I could end up in your class…_

_**I doubt very much that you're studying sports-related stuff. Am I right?**_

_You're right. Performing Arts. So, are we going to try out this chat room thing?_

_**How about we try tomorrow night, at like, nine? I don't know how it'll work out so we'll just have to play it by ear. Or something.**_

_Or something. Okay. Tomorrow at nine. Night then. Sweet dreams._

Dave huffs in amusement, because he kind of feels like he's got a boyfriend or something when FruitLover says things like that, but he answers back with the same thing anyway.

_**Sweet dreams.**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note**: *snort* Someone took StarFruitLover on tumblr. That amuses me far too much. Here's the chapter I know many of you have been waiting for – my first ever attempt at cyber-smut. Hopefully it passes muster. Thanks to SaveKenny, Fancy-Pirate-Loves-Yogi-Bear, Cornflakesareglutenfree and Meghan84 on tumblr for helping me hash out some of the finer details of this chapter (all technical ones because I am a technophobe).

_**Dave writing**_

_Kurt writing_

* * *

><p><strong>PART THIRTEEN<strong>

He's not exactly sure what is going to happen tonight, but he's pretty sure it'll end with him getting off. It's been happening sometimes, even just with non-sexual conversations, he'll become aroused and end up jerking off only minutes after saying goodnight to HookedonHope. Like last night. Their initial conversation had been flirtatious, and he'd responded physically. But later, when he'd kind of been embarrassed by the whole starfruit debacle and just thinking about the possibility of meeting up… He really wants to meet him, and if they're both going to be in New York he sees no reason why not to, except HookedonHope hadn't exactly shown any enthusiasm for the idea.

But he's determined, and he knows given a few months more of conversation, badgering, and, if necessary, full on bossiness he will wear him down. Like water wearing down marble, it might take a while, but consistent gentle pressure will breakdown anything. He has twenty minutes until nine, and he's said goodnight to everyone for the night, the color on his cheeks resembling a tomato when his dad had quirked an eyebrow at his unusually early bedtime. He really shouldn't have said he was going to bed to read, because apparently his dad now thinks that's a euphemism for something else entirely, and well, it _is_, but his dad really doesn't need to know. It's kind of a mood killer.

He's been half-hard since lunch, and in his skinny jeans that is no mean feat. He'd changed as soon as he got home, and now he changes again into his even looser pajama pants, palming his cock through the thin fabric. He tries typing with one hand and he's barely coherent. He hopes HookedonHope has more practice, except thinking about it, he kind of doesn't. He knows the guy is a virgin, but does cybersex count? Oh god, he can't seriously be considering doing this. He couldn't stop giggling the one time he tried to have phone sex with Blaine, and he _knew_ Blaine, but this is… different. And that must be what is allowing him to overcome his normal hesitations, and maybe HookedonHope is right to be a little worried about meeting face-to-face, because he'd be torn between embarrassment and… lust. Maybe it is better that they never meet.

He feels almost hysterical, thinking about what he might be about to do, and he kind of wants to get on with it because then he'll be too distracted to notice or care, but sitting here, hand on his cock, watching the time in the bottom left corner of his computer… However there's nothing there at nine, or at five past, and he suddenly remembers he needs to refresh. Tumblr isn't his e-mail account. He's an idiot, but he can blame this entirely on nerves, because he wouldn't normally forget something that mundane. Sure enough there is a message from HookedonHope with a web address and password, and okay then, he's really doing this. He copies and pastes, enters in his username and enters the chatroom.

_**HookedonHope has entered the chatroom**_

_FruitLover has entered the chatroom_

_**Hey. Easy enough to figure out?**_

_Yes. I kind of thought it would be more difficult. _

_Anymore surprise outings in your week?_

_**LOL. No. None today thank fuck. How about you?**_

_I've never had any, as you well know. Everyone just assumed I was already out and never even bothered with the question in the first place._

_**I meant how was your day?**_

_Oh. Sorry. Of course you did. I'm a bit nervous._

_This enter key is a bit trigger happy. I wouldn't normally admit to that._

_**You're nervous? We can just chat. I mean, we don't have to do or say anything and you can always just turn off your computer if you get too uncomfortable. We could just sit here in silence. It'd be as interesting as watching paint dry, but we'd be doing it together… LOL**_

_Haha. No, I'm fine, I just don't know how this is meant to work. I… You know your words turn me on. You've always known that. I just don't think I have that same level of skill in order to reciprocate and well, I'd really_

_**FL?**_

_Oh god. I was deleting and I accidentally pressed enter. You weren't meant to see that._

_**LOL. It's nothing I don't already know, although I'm curious about how it's meant to end…**_

_**You going to share it with me?**_

_Um._

_Do I have to?_

_**No. But I'd still like to know. But I'd like a lot of things.**_

Kurt stares at the screen, and his cock feels hot and aching, and he's so turned on already he doesn't even know if it's worth trying out cybersex, because he's pretty sure he's likely to explode when HookedonHope sends through the first few words. But he _really_ wants to know what he imagines, what he wants to do… he knows in the general broad sense, but this is far more specific, and his cock knows it. He still can't believe he's doing this, gathers the lube and tissues, spreads a towel over his chair and he'll have to admit to not being able to type and… this has all the ingredients of being a truly mortifying experiment. But it could also just as likely turn out to be an amazingly rewarding experience, and well, he needs to be more open to those sorts of things.

_Sorry._

_I want you to be turned on as well. To get off. I want this, whatever this is, to be reciprocal, but I just don't know what I can actually contribute. If anything. _

_**You really don't have to worry about that. Seriously. Just the idea of you, jerking off, while I tell you what I'd like to do… it'll be enough. If you can manage a sentence here and there, that would be… the icing on the cake.**_

_Oh. Okay. If you're sure. I'm kind of more than ready._

_**You're hard?**_

_Yeah._

_**Fuck. Okay. Just let me take off my jeans.**_

His breath catches, he feels a little light headed and he takes in a deep breath. HookedonHope is sitting somewhere, naked, and he's about to have cybersex with him and he doesn't even know the guy's name. He knows he's probably doing the same preparations as him, lube and tissues, and he swallows, his entire body prickling with anticipation.

_**I'd kiss you, slowly and softly to start with, and I'd hold your body close, because I want to feel it against mine, solid and warm. I'd slip a hand between our bodies, run my fingers up the length of your cock, feel how warm it is, how heavy… I imagine it's the length of my palm, nicely average, and I can feel the heat through the denim.**_

_I'm wearing pajama pants._

He feels like an idiot the second he's pressed enter, because he's pretty sure that isn't the type of sentence HookedonHope was looking for.

_**Just pajama pants?**_

_Yes._

_**I can work with that…**_

_**Your cock is tenting the front of your pants, and I can feel -exactly- how thick you are, and I want a closer look. A taste. I trail kisses down your neck, over your chest, swirl my tongue over each of your nipples until I'm on my knees in front of you. I know it will be warm, and I know all guys will have their own special smell, and I'll inhale through my nose, learning what you smell like. I'll exhale through my mouth, pressing it to your cock so you feel the warmth of my breath on your most sensitive skin. **_

Kurt shimmies his pajama pants down, hand curling around his cock, other one reaching for the lube and he uses it sparingly, still wants a fair amount of friction. He's never imagined someone kneeling in front of him before, Blaine always giving him blowjobs while they were both in bed, but the visual image his mind is creating, along with the firm glide of his hand on his cock is more than arousing. His balls ache, feeling like he's not gotten off for weeks, rather than just this morning. He reaches for the keyboard, hopes what he needs to type is legible.

_Close_

_**No. Not yet. I haven't even gotten started. I pull your pants down and wrap one of my hands around the base of your cock, you can't come yet. I haven't even got to the good part yet. I just hold you there, firm, until you calm down a bit, and then, when I know you're not about to come straight away I lick up your cock, releasing my hand from the firm grip and instead circling with my fist and pumping you.**_

He lets his head fall back for a second, his hand like a vice around the base, and he can't look at what is written. He wants to last, wants to not screw this up, because he's enjoying it _a lot_. More than he ever imagined possible and if it's as good as he knows it going to be he's going to want to repeat this as often as HookedonHope will let him.

_**I lick at the head, I don't know if you leak lots of precome, or just a droplet, or none, but I hope there's something, because I want to know what you taste like, want to feel it leak on my tongue as I take you into my mouth and suck. Gently at first, I don't want to overstimulate you, but I imagine that you're moaning, starting to thrust toward me.**_

_Yes. _

_**Fuck. I've got my own cock out, am working it in my hand, my other hand still on your cock, and I try and match the rhythm, want us to feel the same pull and slide. You feel hot and firm in my mouth, but the skin is satin soft and the roughness of my tongue scrapes over it, and I hope it feels good for you. **_

He moans, wonders why he never paid attention to the feel of a tongue before, because he's right, it would be like warm gentle sandpaper, and he's pretty sure he's learning an entirely new appreciation for blowjobs, giving and receiving, because he wants to give back tenfold. His hand is flying and he knows it's going to be over all too fast, but he wants to come, wants to be able to type back properly, let him experience what he's currently experiencing.

_Close. Coming._

_**Next time I'm going to use a cock ring on you, make you really beg to come, but for right now I suck as much of you into my mouth as I can, hold you in the heat of my mouth while you come, and I want to know if you scream when you come, or grunt, just… I want to know everything.**_

He gasps when he comes, hand shoved into his mouth to muffle the sound and it feels like his orgasm lasts _forever. _Rolling through his body over and over, making it shudder and _wow_, it's like instant lethargy and feeling slightly drunk at the same time. He just wants to lie down and bask in the feeling… except he can't. He has a job to do. Kind of. He really hopes he doesn't suck.

_I fall to my knees when I come, and I kiss you, because I'm kind of curious about how I taste in your mouth, what the difference might be. _

_I wrap a hand around your cock, my fingers are long and you feel hot and hard, and I don't know how you like it, so you wrap your hand over mine, guiding me._

_It's tight and firm and our bodies are thrusting against each other, grinding._

_Is this okay?_

_**Fuck yes. Don't' stop.**_

He grins, feels ridiculously pleased, and powerful.

_Next time, I'm going to give you a blowjob, suck you until you come, or we can try giving each other blowjobs at the same time. Next time though. I want to try everything, learn whether you leak precome, what you taste like, what you smell like, what turns you on the most._

**Oh .**

_Good?_

_**YES. That was… fantastic. Wonderful. Best orgasm ever.**_

_Really? Mine too._

_**Good. Fucking hell…**_

_So, how did you even do that?_

_**What? Come?**_

_No! Type! While um, you know…_

_**What, you're getting shy -now-? I can type one handed, with either hand, just as well. I'm ambidextrous so I can switch over when I get tired. **_

_Well, aren't you multitalented?_

_**I try. *wink***_

_Mmm. Tired now._

_**Oh, you're one of those huh? Fall asleep right after sex?**_

_When it's the best sex of my life, yes, apparently. You should be patting yourself on the back, obviously a job well done. _

_**LOL. Already done. Go to bed. I'll catch you tomorrow. Sleep tight.**_

_You too._

_FruitLover has left the chatroom_

_**HookedonHope has left the chatroom**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note**: Another chapter which I know many people have been waiting for. This is LONG. And the ending might make you want to hunt me down… I don't know how many more chapters, but I seem to have a thing for the number 21 with my longer fics, so… maybe?

IMPORTANT: My eternal thanks to Aetheriata for helping out with this. She's fantastic for putting up with me.

_**Dave writing**_

_Kurt writing_

* * *

><p><strong>PART FOURTEEN<strong>

He feels kind of ridiculously sappy for the following couple of days and wonders if this is what it would be like to have a boyfriend. Life feels good. Not great, or perfect, but he's out to his dad, and nothing has changed. One of the guys on the team knows, has suspected for months, and doesn't care enough to either out him or make a big deal of it. In fact, he's going to the movies with Nick and a couple of other guys from the team to see the new Avengers movie on Friday night, which is equal parts exciting and worrying. He hasn't really done anything social outside of school-related activities since transferring, just keeping his head down, grateful that his skill on the field and rink meant he could orbit on the outskirts of the social groups with little to no grief from anyone.

When he gets home on Thursday night to find his dad sitting at the dining room table, looking serious, he gets worried. Although it's not worry for himself anymore. It's not like his dad can land him with anything that is going to make his life worse, except… oh shit.

"Dad? You okay?"

"David, sit down… I have something to tell you."

He licks his lip and lowers himself into the chair opposite, now nervous for whatever his dad is going to say. His chest is tight with the sudden instant flush of worry that maybe his dad is sick, or… no, that's the only thing he can think of. His dad is staring down at his hands and he doesn't know what to say, but he needs to break the silence before it smothers the pair of them.

"Dad?"

"I have done a lot of thinking, and I haven't been honest with you, and I thought, that now that you've been honest with me, I should… share something with you."

Oh fuck. His dad is gay. Or not his dad. Or dying of cancer. Or secretly a crack addict. Or a drug dealer. Or a hit man. Or a member of the CIA. Damn his overactive imagination because he could go on for hours.

"I have… a lady friend."

He blinks. Rubs his face. Leans back in his chair and then forward, rests his elbows on the table. That's completely anticlimactic after everything his mind has conjured just seconds ago.

"Lady friend? You mean like, a girlfriend?"

"Well, I feel I'm a little too old for a girlfriend, so I prefer to use the term lady friend."

"Okay. That's… fine. But can you tell me her name at least?" _Because I feel like I'm talking about some anonymous hooker or something._

"Judy. Her name's Judy."

"Okay. Let's just call her Judy… lady friend just sounds… weird. So, why the big secret?"

"Well, while you were living with your mother every other week I'd see Judy that week, and well, it's usually her week to visit this week, but I wondered if maybe… you'd like to meet her?"

"Yeah. I mean. Why not? How long have you guys been going out anyway?"

"We've been seeing each other for five years."

"Whoa! Holy shit dad… you've kept her a secret from your kids for five years? Did you not think me or Sarah could cope with this?" His dad looks up to meet his eyes and he realizes then that it's not him and his sister his dad was worried about, but his mom. Again. Typical. Right then, there's nothing for it. "Well, I'm not going to go blabbing to mom, we can be mutual secret keepers…" His dad looks at him blankly and he sighs. "It's fine dad, have her over as much as you'd like, I don't care if she stays. Hell, ask her to move in…"

"Hmm. She's already said no to that. Said I'm not ready…"

"Well, you hadn't told your kids and have you considered that Judy might have a problem with the fact that you're still wearing your wedding ring?"

"Oh. Well. I can't it off. It's stuck."

"_Dad_, go to a jeweler and they can cut it off. Use the gold for something else. Melt it down and I dunno… make fillings with it. Just… _come on._" _Fuck, how stupid can his father be?_

"Okay. So how about dinner tomorrow night?"

"Uh, I'm going to the movies with some of the guys from the team… can we make it early?"

His dad nods, and he thinks this will work out. He has dinner and then leaves the house so his dad can have some time alone with… ew _gross_.

**OAA**

He's on the phone to Blaine, hearing all about the new boyfriend and discussing clothing choices for the big meet up tomorrow night. Why Blaine feels it necessary for him to meet his new boyfriend he has no idea, but the idea of tagging along on what was meant to be a date had been vetoed. Until Blaine had suggested inviting the entire glee club, which had been met with a variety of responses, but most of them have decided that going to the movies was a good enough Friday night entertainment as any. They have so many parties in the coming two weeks he's sure they'll all be thoroughly sick of each other by the time they actually graduate. He loves his friends, but he's kind of more than ready to move on to the scary and over-whelming next stage of his life.

"Have you ever had cybersex?" He asks suddenly, cutting Blaine off mid-diatribe about his cord pants which his mom shrunk in the drier and he listens as Blaine splutters down the phone and grins.

"_No!_"

"Hmm. I didn't think so…"

"I really don't think I should be discussing sex with my ex-boyfriend. Wait. Have _you_ had cybersex?"

"Maybe," Kurt says, but from him that's tantamount from screaming '_YES!_' at the top of his lungs and Blaine knows it.

"Oh my god Kurt! With _who_?" Blaine pauses then, and Kurt grins again at the next question. "What was it like?"

"I really don't think I should tell you, what with you having a new boyfriend and all…"

"_Kurt…_"

"It was… an experience. One I want to repeat many many times. Because I'm sure there's a lot of room for improvement. And practicing will be _fun_."

"How though? I mean, who with?"

"Um, does the name HookedonHope ring any bells?"

"The fanfic writer? Oh my god! You had cybersex with a fanfic writer?"

"Maybe?"

"Kurt!"

They both collapse into laughter and it feels good to be talking about it like this, openly, because he knows Blaine understands fanfiction, and well… he's a gay teenage boy and apparently they both have sex drives that rev a thousand-times-faster when they aren't together. He doesn't go into details, has already implied enough that he enjoyed it, but he just wanted to share it with someone, someone who would understand and not be grossed out. He talks, explains how his friendship with HookedonHope has developed and evolved. Blaine is apparently a read-and-run type, never reviewing, which means he's never received a reply message from HookedonHope. He's kind of glad, although he suspects HookedonHope replies to all his reviews and it's not like he has any claim over him…

"So, do you know his name?"

"No. Is that a bad thing? I know a lot of other stuff about him…"

"I'd probably ask for a name. If you're going to be having cybersex with the guy on a regular basis then his name's probably easier to type out…" Blaine says, sniggering.

"I'm never sharing anything with you ever again…"

"Liar. I got to go ring Luke, but thanks for the help with the clothes. I'll see you tomorrow."

He hangs up and turns to his computer and sure enough there's a message waiting for him. It's almost routine now, they talk every day, sometimes for hours, other nights just for a half-hour or so, and he clicks open the message and reads.

_**So my dad just came out and told me he had a girlfriend. For the last five years. He tells me now, is walking around wearing his wedding ring and wonders why his 'lady-friend' (his words, not mine) doesn't think he's serious. He clearly fails at understanding women.**_

_He actually called her his lady friend? Sounds like he's visiting a prostitute._

_**That's exactly what I thought! Anyway, how has your day been?**_

_Good. Fun. Was talking to my ex about you. And other things._

_**Other things huh? Tuesday night other things?**_

_Maybe._

_**LOL. I don't know how I feel about you talking about me to other guys, but your ex is an improvement on your dad at least.**_

_Only marginally, trust me. I think you'd get on better with my dad. So, your dad has a girlfriend. You get to meet her?_

_**Yeah. Tomorrow night. She's coming round for dinner. Going to be interesting. I can't hang round for very long, for some reason I'm behind on my chapters. Plus I have some work I need to do as well. You're not good for my time management… *wink***_

_You've never complained before. But that's fine. I expect my three chapters this weekend. You've not failed me yet._

_**Ah well, you see I've been holding out on you. Some of them I am a chapter or two ahead, but you'll just have to wait, because I know how patient you are.**_

_You sir, are a tease._

_**I'll think you find I'm not. *wink* **_

Kurt grins, because he likes this, likes it _so_ much, and Blaine makes it sound easy, just to blurt out and ask his name, but he can't, it would break up the flow of their conversation, and he doesn't need to know a name. He knows enough for now.

**OAA**

Dinner had gone as well as expected, which was slightly awkward. Judy had been nice, and fortunately hadn't tried too hard to impress him or make conversation. His dad had definitely been the most nervous, glancing between them as if they were about to attack each other with their cutlery across the table. And now he's on the way to the movies, picked up Nick from his place, and it's kind of odd to be making a friend so close to the end of the school year, but he goes with it. He parks the car and they get out, heading to the pre-arranged meeting place.

"Hey, isn't that the guy from Valentine's Day?" Nick asks, voice just barely audible and his head whips around, and sure enough there's Kurt, along with nearly the entire glee club. He lets out a sigh and nods minutely.

"Yeah, with his boyfriend…"

"Oh. Dude. That sucks."

He shrugs, tries to ignore the other group as they meet up with the other guys, and he's starting to relax, joke around while they wait when he feels small warm hands cover his eyes. He can hear the other guys snickering, but he can also feel the press of breasts, and he knows it has to be Santana.

"Guess who?"

"Santana."

"Well, that was no fun. What are you boys here to see?"

"Avengers…"

"Us too. It was the only movie we could all agree on without causing a bloodbath. Artie boycotted though…"

"Dude, you going to introduce us?"

"Oh. Uh. Sorry. Nick, this is Santana, Santana, this is Nick. Brian, Jarvis, James, Mitchel, Al…"

"And she is?"

"His ex-girlfriend," Santana replies, eyes flashing, and he knows she doesn't like being talked about, and Nick is looking at him with a questioning glance and he shrugs, half-nods and rolls his eyes. Nick has the audacity to look amused and elbows him in the side, and he just shakes his head.

**OAA**

When Santana returns he kind of wishes he'd had the guts to at least wave at David. Instead they'd exchanged tight smiles. He'd looked happier though, amused by Santana, and also like he was just hanging out with friends, like him. Although Santana had provided a complete crack-pot theory that Nick and David were actually a couple he doesn't believe it, not only because he recognizes Nick from Valentine's Day and he was out to dinner _with a girl_, but he doesn't strike him as Dave's type. And sure, it's a little conceited, but he's pretty sure Dave's type is him. And guys like him. Like last weekend he has the fleeting though of _'what if'_ and ignores it.

The next day he heads to the mall, mainly just to look, but he has one store he needs to visit, and it's been a while, but it feels a bit like coming home as he enters the book store. He's never been to the classical fiction section before, but clearly displayed, almost like they were waiting for him, are the books. Attached to the front is a sheaf of paper with a short review, and he figures that the TV series has probably made the books popular again. Popular enough for them to be front-and-center of the classical fiction section anyway. He reads all three reviews, trying to decide which one to try reading first and then decides to just buy them all. He has long and multiple trips to and from New York in his future, and books don't need charging.

He selects copies without the review slip and turns to head for the counter at the front of the store before deciding to briefly pop into the popular-fiction section just in case there is anything there that might be interesting. HookedonHope could probably recommend something, but he'll take a quick look. He rounds the corner of a shelf and there's the familiar all-black of the staff uniform, the guy kneeling and arranging hardback books in an artful circular turret starting from the floor and even with the multiple masturbatory sessions he's been having aren't enough for him to ignore the tight pull of fabric over quite an attractive ass, broad shoulders and… oh god.

"David!"

**OAA**

He's unpacking a new box and setting up a display when he hears someone behind him say his name, and he knows it's Kurt before he even turns around. No one squeaks his name out like that, although to be fair it's usually Karofsky that Kurt called him, so it's an improvement in that regard at least. He stands slowly, moving upwards and away slightly, brushing dust from his knees.

"Kurt. Hey."

"Hey. I didn't know you worked here."

He shrugs. He likes working in Barnes and Noble, he likes working with books full stop, and the fact that they like him enough to want to organize a transfer for him so he can keep working within the company when he starts college is something he considers himself incredibly lucky for.

"Yeah. Since sophomore year. Can I help you with something, or are you just looking?" Dave asks, and he's glad he has the professional façade to hide behind, because as always Kurt makes him kind of nervous, although the nerves have lessened from thousands of butterflies to maybe just a hundred or so, he still feels too big, too clumsy and too much of an idiot when Kurt's around.

"I've got what I need. I thought I'd give real fiction a try for a while."

"Real fiction? Is there a type of non-real fiction?"

To his surprise Kurt blushes and then he spies the books in Kurt's hands. A Study in Scarlett, The Hound of the Baskervilles and The Complete Sherlock Holmes Short Stories all by one Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. His blood runs cold. It's just a coincidence. It has to be.

"Those are… not what I would have picked for you."

"Me neither, but a friend of mine recommended them to me. Said I'd get more…um… enjoyment from the… er, show, if I uh… had a better understanding of the characters. Why, have you read them?"

Dave's skin prickles as Kurt talks and he cannot believe this is happening. Kurt can't be… _him_. Kurt has a boyfriend, one he saw him with last night, and FruitLover is _single_, but he can't be standing here holding _those_ three books, it's just… too much of a coincidence.

"Uh yeah. I have," _they're my favorite. "_Your friend's probably right… uh. How are you and Blaine?"

"Good. He's just started seeing some guy from Dalton… what? David? Are you okay?"

"You guys broke up?" He asks, and he's pretty sure he's gone pale, because he feels suddenly light headed and he bends his knees slightly, because he sure as hell isn't going to keel over while at work. Throw up, maybe. Oh god, this can't be happening.

"Well, yes. About a couple of weeks after Valentines Day actually. Um…" Kurt looks away, suddenly embarrassed.

It's him. It has to be, and his mind flies through the dozens of little facts he knows about FruitLover that also fit Kurt. Senior in high school. Dad's alive but mother has died. Going to New York to study. Confident although admitted to only being able to talk about sex online and not in person and can have some really delicate sensibilities. Has an ex-boyfriend and described himself as bossy and demanding. Is out at school and apparently out before he told anyone but had the support of family and friends. Enjoys singing and designing clothes. First crush was on a jock. _Hudson_. Oh fuck. It's official. He really is an idiot. Looking at all this lined up in his head, paired with seeing Kurt standing there holding the books he recommended means it's him. There's no doubt in his mind, and _holy shit_ he's had cybersex with Kurt Hummel. Oh fuck.

"David? Are you okay?" Kurt asks, and he wonders if Kurt has had to ask more than once, because he looks kind of worried.

"Sorry, I'm fine. Just… realized something. Can I ring those up for you?" He asks, gesturing toward the books, and Kurt nods, looking equally grateful that there's something they can do. He wonders for a brief second that maybe Kurt's fucking with him. Has somehow figured out that he's HookedonHope but… no. Kurt's looking completely unconcerned. There's nothing for it, he has to try something.

"So, what are your plans for after school?"

"I'm moving to New York. I got into NYADA so I'll be moving there in September. What about you?"

"I'm going to New York as well. Um. Journalism." There's no flicker of recognition, and maybe mentioning writing in such an oblique way is just too subtle. "I really like writing," he states, sliding the books into the bag and then handing the bag to Kurt, who is suddenly looking distracted.

"Um. New York too. That's pretty cool. We should meet up before we move, find out where we'll each be living and stuff. It'd be nice to know someone there already…"

"Yeah. Definitely. Here you go. Enjoy."

"I'm sure I will. Thanks," Kurt says, and he grins and he's suddenly filled with the horrible thought that maybe it's all a coincidence anyway, and Kurt and FruitLover aren't the same person, because right now, he doesn't know if he wants them to be the same person or not.

He's desperate to get home, but he works through the rest of his shift diligently, but his mind is racing, going through all their conversations. Not the sex ones, but hell, do _those_ have a whole new level of interest, but the other ones. He has no idea what to do, how Kurt will react, and _fuck_, he really wants FruitLover's advice right now. He stares at his computer and the sudden need to write is overwhelming and he turns it on, his fingers tapping impatiently. He opens a new document and starts writing, lets it flow onto the screen, because right now this is the only way he can think of to communicate with him, and he _really_ needs to communicate with him.

**OAA**

Kurt gets home and drops the bag of books on the sofa where his dad is sitting watching something sport related on TV.

"You said you weren't going to buy anything…"

"No, I said I wasn't going to buy any clothes or related accessories. I bought a few books."

"Are they about clothes or related accessories?"

"_No._ They're Sherlock Holmes. The guy I talk to online said I'd probably enjoy them…"

He pulls the books from the bag and waves them in the air and his dad looks suitably surprised, and he controls the mutual urges to roll his eyes, or stick his nose in the air and stalk away triumphant.

"Huh. Real books. You know how those work then do you?"

"Shut up dad," he mutters, turning and leaving the room to the sound of his dad chuckling.

He turns on his computer and logs in to his e-mails, smiles when he sees there's a message from HookedonHope, as well as a couple of other alerts for his stories. The message is short though, and a bit odd.

_**Hey. I've just written something and I just… need you to tell me what you think.**_

He frowns and goes back into his Inbox. There's a new story from HookedonHope, titled 'Unmasked'.

He clicks.

* * *

><p><strong>You now need to go and read "Unmasked" by Aetheriata<strong>

You can either find it in my favourites or go to h t t p : / www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net / s / 8040172 / 1 / (removing all the spaces and replacing with dots etc.)

You need to read this so that the next chapter will make sense.

Putting a link in is much easier on tumblr and LJ.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note**: If you didn't think you needed to read the JohnLock chapter you're wrong. Sorry. You can read ahead, but prepare to be confused.

Thank you so much for all the reviews - I am behind on replying (too busy writing), so if I don't reply, or reply twice, please excuse my slightly addled mind - I only need it to ensure I keep my stories straight.

_**Dave writing**_

_Kurt writing_

* * *

><p><strong>PART FIFTEEN<strong>

What would he do if he were John?

He's confused, because if he were John he'd just tell Sherlock. It's not that hard surely? It's not like John and Sherlock were having an affair or cybersex or… _oh. Oh. _HookedonHope is John. He's pretty sure that's right, he's discovered the identity of someone, one of his online friends, and wants to know what to do… Oh. He feels a spike of jealousy, or disappointment, that he's not the only person that HookedonHope has been talking to, but knows that's futile and ridiculous. He can't monopolize anyone's time like that, as much as he would like to.

He reads the last message from HookedonHope again, then the author's note and then the title catches his eye again. _Unmasked_. Who exactly has been unmasked? Sherlock. Because he's no longer The Stranger, but… He's confused as to why HookedonHope wants his opinion. He likes the story, is really intrigued and really wants to know how it ends, and being left hanging there is _cruel_, but… Oh god. _He's_ Sherlock. And HookedonHope is John. And John has figured out who Sherlock is which means… HookedonHope has figured out who _he_ is? How in the hell has he done that? Unless they already know each other?

He pushes himself away from his laptop and stares at it in shock. What the hell? Is he reading this right? _Hope to see you on the flipside._ He's pretty sure he is. HookedonHope knows who he is. Which means they know each other. Who is he? How long has he known? How did he find out? Oh god, it's equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. Shit. Are they friends? He doesn't think so, but he's been careful… he needs to talk, and he really wants to be able to ask HookedonHope what he means, who he is, but he hasn't just told him. _I've come to enjoy his friendship more than I ever thought possible._

He heads downstairs, because with the lack of HookedonHope he's going to talk to the next best thing. His Dad. He sits quietly, mind racing, waiting for his dad to either mute the TV or ask him what's wrong and why he's willingly sitting in the room while a football game is on. HookedonHope plays football. Could even be watching this game, except for the fact he's probably sitting in front of a computer waiting for a reply.

"Dad?"

"Mmm…"

"You know how I told you about the friend online? The one that writes the stories?"

"Yeah…?" His dad's eyes don't leave the TV.

"I think I know him. In real life."

"Oh yeah? Who is it?"

"I don't know…"

His dad presses the mute button and turns to him, looking confused.

"You know him but you don't know who it is?"

"Yes."

"Kurt, that makes no sense."

"Yes, it does. He… augh. It's confusing. But he kind of implied that he knows who _I _am, and well, I think he asked me what he should do about it? I think…"

"You think? I'm lost. I don't get what you mean. Could the guy be yanking your chain?"

He stops and thinks for the briefest of second and shakes his head emphatically.

"No. Definitely not. He wouldn't do that. I kind of get the impression he's worried… I mean. He didn't tell me as such, he just kind of wrote this story and asked me what the guy in the story should do. But I think I'm Sherlock."

"_What_?"

"Like I said. Confusing. But focus dad, he knows who I am… I need to figure out who _he_ is…"

His dad looks skeptical, which is probably understandable, because he sounds kind of crazy to his own ears and he actually kind of understands what is going on.

"Why don't you just ask him?"

"I… it's not that simple. I mean, if he wanted to tell me he would have. Plus I don't think he'd tell me if I just asked. I don't know that for certain, but… I kind of feel like I need to figure it out. I mean, he's told me he knows me, and he didn't have to do that. He could have just… kept it to himself. But he hasn't. I need to know who he is."

"Tell me about him, maybe you can figure it out that way," his dad says, eyes drifting to the TV.

"I… okay. Well. He's a senior like me. He has an older sister and drinks his coffee with a lot of sugar. He has a good sense of humor, likes reading books and writing. He's smart. He's going to New York to study as well…"

"Sounds like you like him."

"I…yeah. I kind of do I suppose," and that's not the half of it, because there's all the _other_ details, like the fact that he's a virgin but knows more about gay sex than Kurt does himself.

"Anything else? Because with all the time you've been spending with your laptop I kind of expect you to know the guys family history…"

"I… know more stuff. It's just, there's so much of it, all jumbled together and I need to line everything up. He plays football and hockey and he's kind of come out to a couple of people in the last few weeks. Um. He's just moved in with his dad permanently."

"What?" His dad asks, stiffening and eyes suddenly focusing on him intently rather than flicking to the TV every other second.

"He moved in with his dad permanently. Dad? What?"

"Um… nothing. Just… keep telling me about this guy."

Kurt frowns as his dad turns the TV off, because '_hello odd behavior!_' but he sifts through their conversations, keeping an eye on his dad.

"He's ambidextrous and has a really caring nature, like worrying about me when I was sick and telling me to sleep tight. He's the one that recommended the books…"

He freezes. The books… the ones he bought only hours ago and the knowledge floods though him. David. David who had looked at him funny when he'd insisted on real fiction, and oh god, had gone pale when he'd said he wasn't with Blaine anymore. Shit. He'd figured it out then and there and had been dropping hints as big as houses. He's going to New York. He likes writing.

"Kurt? You alright?"

He hasn't realized his breathing has become rapid and shallow and he looks at his dad, eyes wide and nods wildly. Oh god. Breathing. It's important. Oh shit. He's been talking to David. He's… oh god. He fans his face, because he can't tell his dad stuff like this.

"Head between your knees buddy, slow breaths…"

"I'm not hyperventilating dad!" Lies. He might be.

"Oh, really? It's hard to tell sometimes. So, you uh... figure it out?"

He turns his head sharply, because the tone of his dad's voice is just… weird.

"Dad? Why do I have this feeling that you're not telling me something?"

"Uh…" his dad stalls, and he likes the soothing hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles, but his dad is crap at lying.

"_Dad_?"

"I… think I know who you might be talking about…" He's talking deliberately, a tiny pause between each word as if he's testing each of them out before saying them out loud and he bats his hand away.

"Who do you think it is?"

"Uh… his dad came into the garage a couple of times…"

"His dad? How often has he visited?"

"Uh, a couple of times… a month."

"You're friends with Mr Karofsky?"

His dad lets out a massive sigh and seems to instantly relax, and he doesn't understand.

"I am… kind of. He came by over a year ago, to apologize for Dave's behavior, and ask me some questions. We get on. Have a beer. Talk."

"What? About your gay sons?"

"You don't seem shocked about the fact that he's gay… when did you know?"

"Before I went to Dalton. I found out, and that's what freaked him out so much. It's his biggest fear, being outed in school…" Flashes from prom last year flash and he must have been terrified.

"Oh. Okay. Well, sometimes we talk about you two. He thought that Dave might be gay, but couldn't figure out how to broach it with him. I told him to just ask."

Kurt laughs, and it has a hysterical edge, and he still feels light headed from the rush of oxygen from breathing so fast. This is getting ridiculous and he really needs to get back to his room and hide under his pillow until the world makes sense again.

"Kurt? You okay?"

"Yeah, just… I'm kind in shock. You knew that he moved in with his dad. Oh my god… he's _David._"

"Is that… a problem? I kind of figured you'd forgiven the guy."

"I have. I just… I never thought… I mean… Valentine's Day…" _Oh god…_ Valentine's, with that guy, obviously the one that just asked him this week if he was gay, the one he was at the movies with last night.

"What about Valentine's Day? I thought you were with Blaine then…"

"I was… David just…" he lets out a little laugh. "David pretty much showered me with gifts. For the entire week. Blaine didn't get me anything…"

"What? Why not?"

"Not the point dad! The thing is I wasn't _upset_ that Blaine didn't get me anything, which made me kind of examine our relationship and led me to break up with him… We're much better as friends."

"And now you've discovered the same guy who was showering you with gifts three months ago is… what? Not your type? Just a minute ago you said you liked the guy."

"I… I do Dad. I actually do." He blinks, because it's kind of a shock to say it aloud, and with what he'd thought this afternoon, coupled with discovering HookedonHope's true identity he needs to read. Read everything from the start, now that he knows it is David. "I've got to go. I've got to go and read… he's told me so much, and I want to read it again, knowing who he is… I just need to go."

His dad gives him a concerned look as he gets up to leave and he feels a hand on his arm, halting him.

"I love you Kurt."

"I know dad. I love you too."

He _runs_ to his room, suddenly desperate to read all their previous messages together, and it shocks him that they've only been talking for three weeks. It feels like they've been chatting for _months_. _Known_ each other for months. He reads over the conversations, bites his lip in embarrassment when he reread their flirting, because if he'd known it was David he would never have been so… flirty. As he reads so many things fall into place, it's so blatantly obvious that it's David and he feels like an idiot for not spotting it. Seeing David yesterday, admiring him before even realizing who he was, and then the arms, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, glasses, combined with the fact that Dave had looked like he was about to pass out. That had been his moment of realization, when he'd known Kurt was the guy he's been talking to everyday. He wants to talk to him now.

He just wishes he knew what to say and now he knows exactly how John feels…


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's note**: Thanks for all the lovely reviews and messages and likes and reblogs. This story started out as very very cracky. I still consider it as crack. But I love writing it, and I'm glad so many people seem to like reading it, because people getting enjoyment is an added bonus to the enjoyment I get from writing it. (

Also, I said not too long ago that I wish I could write fic like a pick-a-path book, which would be doable, but only by a person with more technological-nous than me. But for me, this story would have fit into that perfectly, because there have always been so many things that could have just gone wrong at any time, so many different reveals and so many different points in time. And the thing is, I have written or taken notes, of so many (like, hundreds) of different ways this could have gone (because I am a geek like that) and if it's possible to write AU one-shots of your own fic, then I might one day do that, because it would be fun.

_**Dave writing**_

_Kurt writing_

* * *

><p><strong>PART SIXTEEN<strong>

He hasn't had a response and he doesn't know what to do. Has Kurt figured it out? He's pretty sure he has, because if it's _not_ Kurt, or if Kurt hadn't figured it out, he'd have gotten a response pretty quickly. There's been nothing though, not even a review on his chapter that he posted about an hour ago. And okay sure, it's almost midnight, and he doesn't even know if Kurt's home right now and awake. He can't sleep, all tight anxious nerves. Before, he'd not known Kurt, not known all the useless facts about him. He'd admired him from afar like a beautiful but completely unaffordable watch. Valentine's Day had been him trying on the watch, liking it, but having to give it back knowing you're never going to be able to have it. He can easily admit now that he's attracted to Kurt, has been for a long time. However now knows what's inside, all the little inner workings, and he didn't think it was possible to be _more_ in love with someone. But he is.

He considers FruitLover a friend, would have told him anything, but now that he knows he's Kurt he feels both a sense of loss but also that he might have possibly gained something. If Kurt is ever going to talk to him. They were kind of friendly with each other earlier, in the bookstore, a bit awkward, but he'd been freaking out because he'd figured it out, and Kurt had seemed… distracted, or embarrassed. God he wishes he could fast-forward, skip to the end and know how it's going to end, because he doesn't know if he can handle being in limbo like this.

He logs in to tumblr and posts a simple message '_Need distracting. Help me out?'_ He's not flooded with replies, but there's a steady stream, links to porn, fic recs, questions asking if he's okay, and this is good, it's nice and comforting and exactly what he needs right now. He keeps the majority of it off his dashboard, because the last thing he needs is for Kurt to see him flailing about online. He feels exposed, knowing that Kurt can see all of him. He chats about it with a couple of friends, and they provide the grounding reassurance he needs. His life isn't over. There's no point stressing or worrying over something he has no power to change. He is important, wanted and loved. Even if Kurt wants nothing to do with him, he needs to remember these things. He ends up dropping into bed at three, so exhausted he doesn't even have time to think about Kurt before falling asleep, and he's grateful for small mercies, because he's not sure what his mind would do with that information right now.

Of course, in the morning he wakes up hard, already thrusting against his mattress, and he groans, the images in his mind drifting before reforming. It's not the first time he's dreamt of Kurt, and it sure as hell won't be the last, but _fuck_, he now knows that he can turn Kurt on with _words_. That knowledge is heady, and he knows that even if Kurt refuses to ever acknowledge his existence again he'll have this part of him, this almost secret part, and what he would give to just be able to discover things with Kurt, find out what else could turn him on. Kurt just standing beside him fully dressed turns him on, or sitting opposite him in a coffee shop and licking foam off his upper lip, or, oh holy shit, having cybersex and exchanging mutual blowjobs.

He's never let himself think about sex and Kurt too much. There's wishful thinking and then there's beating yourself into the ground with a baseball bat. Though now he lets himself fill in little details, imagines Kurt's eyes dark with lust, lips swollen from kissing, naked body pressed against his. He doesn't know what Kurt looks like naked, but his imagination is _vivid_ and he's seen Kurt enough to know he's all toned muscle with skin that feels like warm satin. And _that's_ what he imagines pressed against him, firm warm flesh, all over. Cocks trapped between them getting harder with the mounting pressure and he moans into his pillow, slips his hand between his body and the bed, giving his cock something firmer to rut against.

With the knowledge of Kurt being FruitLover along with the porn he'd been sent last night which he'd only really glanced at curiously, he's close. His whole body is tightening, tingling and his hips snap back and forth, and he lets himself go with a muffled grunt, feels the warmth spread and he pants into his pillow. Fuck. He needed that. As much as he'd like to go back to sleep, he can't. He needs to pee. And check his e-mail. Then if there's nothing from Kurt he can curl up in bed and pull the covers over his head and pretend like none of this has ever happened.

OAA

He feels terrible. He'd laid in bed last night unable to sleep, trying to figure out the best way forward. He has no idea how to approach David. Not _now_. He knows how to approach David. Sort of. He knows how to approach HookedonHope. Now that they're one person he has no clue and his frustration at not being about to work it out eats away at him. He wants to see David in person, talk to him, and try having a conversation, because he knows they have something… and could potentially have something more. He _really_ wants to try for more.

Yesterday he'd found himself admiring Dave. Of course he hadn't _known_ it was Dave initially, but he had definitely known it was Dave when he'd noticed his arms, with the shirtsleeves of his black uniform shirt rolled up, his glasses making his eyes appear large and quiet. He'd felt uncomfortable then, realizing that he found David attractive. Except he's not the David Karofsky he'd known. Now he knows that he's HookedonHope, David's apparent alter-ego, an alter-ego he wants to get to know a lot better. And he already knows David thinks he's cute. Or something. That decides him. Just like that. He's going to go and see him. Except first he needs to make himself presentable, because right now he needs layers, like armor and he's dressing to go to war. Except it's nothing like war, although as he heads downstairs to find his dad he feels like he might have a few battles ahead of him.

"Where does he live?"

"What? Who?"

"David. Karofsky. Where do they live?"

"Uh. What are you going to do?"

"I just… want to talk to him."

"Can't you just talk to him through your computer doo-dakky thing?"

"The _internet_ dad. I know you know what it is. You're not that stupid. And I want to see him in person. Do you know his address?"

His dad is clearly torn over not being called stupid and the tone of his voice, which he knows is bordering on rude, but he needs to leave _now_ before his courage disappears completely. He listens as his dad gives him the address, and some brief instructions. Right. He grabs some coffee in his travel mug along with an apple and heads for his car. Now or never.

The house is nice, larger than he expected for just David and his dad though. Large yard with a flagpole, and he drives by slowly, taking in the willow tree, swing-chair in the porch, the slightly overgrown garden. He doesn't stop though. Or the second time. The fifth time he drives past he's starting to feel like a creeper, his apple and coffee are both long gone and he stops around the block to hit his head against the steering wheel, because he really doesn't get why this is so hard. He knows David isn't going to tell him to get lost. The seventh time he drives past he could swear he has the pattern of the peeling paint on the letterbox memorized. He reaches the intersection, and he could turn to go home, or take one more swing around the block. Which is what he's been doing the last six times, but he keeps hoping that this time there might be something different. Or he'll have enough courage to stop his car and go and knock on the door.

This time there _is_ something different though and he almost drives up onto the footpath. He'd thought at first that it was David, except it's not, it's his dad, and he didn't think this could actually get potentially worse but he'd been wrong. He pulls over and winds down his window, wonders how many times he's seen him drive past. Obviously enough to make him come out and see if he was going to do it again.

"Kurt. How are you?"

"Uh. Mr. Karofsky. Hi. I'm good. You?"

"I'm good thank you. Were you casing the joint, or did you have some other reason for driving past my house? Eight times?"

"Uh. I was wondering if David was home…"

"Sure. Come in…"

He freezes, eyes darting to the side. Oh god. He's not ready. Waiting isn't going to make it easier though and he slowly reaches for the buckle of his safety belt and un-clips it. He feels like he's moving in slow motion, although Paul doesn't seem to think anything is out of the ordinary, so it's obviously just him. He smiles hesitantly as he locks his car and follows Paul toward the house. He's ushered inside and it feels a bit dated, but comfortable and homey, but he finds it difficult to believe that David's father did the decorating. Or David. The door closes behind them and he jumps when Paul yells, _loudly_.

"David! Can you come down to the kitchen. I need to talk to you!"

Kurt's eyes widen, Paul's not going to tell him, give him some warning that he's _here_? Waiting? There's a clattering upstairs and some swearing and he bites his lip, amused, because it merges David and HookedonHope further together in his mind.

"God dad, I didn't get to sleep until three, where's the –"

He stops talking the second he walks into the kitchen and spies him, mouth clacking shut audibly and Kurt wishes he knew what to say, so instead just settles for smiling in what he hopes in a non-threatening manner and ignore the dozens of holes in David's threadbare t-shirt and the fact he's only wearing boxers. He can see bare legs, bare feet, arms, neck, mussed hair… he remembers, vaguely, thinking that if he ever met HookedonHope he'd be torn between embarrassment and lust. He was exactly right, and he can feel his cheeks, neck and chest starting to warm up and wishes he didn't have such an obvious tell, although it's definitely a mix between wanting to just walk over and kiss him and run for the door out of mortification that they've done things together online which were really… _fun_. But right now slightly humiliating.

"Hi."

"Hi." David's voice sounds tight, cracked, and Kurt can see his throat working. His own feels tight and he nods, trying to smile but sure it turns out looking like a grimace.

"So…"

"Yep…"

"I've just leave you two boys to your scintillating conversation and go annoy the neighbors by mowing the grass."

The just watch each other in silence while Paul leaves and he feels so awkward right now, and he can't imagine Dave is feeling any better. At least he had the knowledge that he was coming here, Dave had clearly not thought this was in the realm of possibility. It's obvious that neither of them know what to say, and the silence drags out between them. A part of him just wants to laugh hysterically, because that would definitely alleviate some of his nerves, but he has no idea how David would take that.

"So, this is awkward."

"Yeah. Just a bit. I think that… I should go." David looks ready to argue but he holds up a hand. "We'll talk later… I should have messaged first. Or texted. I do have your number."

Dave shrugs, runs a hand through his hair and he really wants to reach out and squeeze his arm, reassure him that everything is going to be fine, but leaves his hands where they are and smiles again, a bit more relaxed this time and heads for the door. He waves goodbye, and he gets a small smile in return. When he gets home there's a message waiting for him and he grins.

_**That had to be one of the most awkward meetings in the history of awkward meetings.**_

He laughs, because yes, it was, but also the fact that he can laugh about it, that David can joke about it, makes him feel feathery light and relieved.

_Yeah. It was. It can only get better though right? Become less awkward? I mean, we clearly have plenty to talk about…_

There's quiet for a few minutes and he wonders what David is doing, what he's thinking.

_**I'm way better at writing then talking. But yeah, things can't get any -more- awkward.**_

_Don't put your money on that yet, did you know our dads talk?_

_**WHAT?**_

This is better. He didn't think it could be, but knowing who he is talking to, being able to put a face to the name, imagine David sitting there staring at his screen in horror, it feels _wonderful_.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note: **Sorry for the delay. RL had to take priority.

* * *

><p><strong>PART SEVENTEEN<strong>

Okay, so he's left Kurt in the lurch, but yelling at his dad kind of takes precedence right now. He walks through the house, calling out before heading out into the yard, and sure enough his dad can't hear him over the engine of the mower.

"Dad!"

"David… " his dad replies, and shuts off the engine. He's covered in grass clippings already and his hat is drooping over his eyes.

"You've been talking to _Burt Hummel_ about me?"

"Ah… maybe? Why?"

"I… why did you need to talk to him?" _He scares the shit out of me. I'm in love with his son. I am so so so screwed._

"Well… first I went and apologized. Said I didn't know where I'd gone wrong…"

He feel a stab of guilt and remorse, knows now how long his dad must have wondered and , _fuck_, if he'd just had the balls a year ago to tell his dad he wouldn't have immersed himself online with his friends there to cope with his life. Of course, he wouldn't have started writing fanfiction and started conversing with FruitLover/Kurt, so maybe it's for the best, and the friends he has made online are people he now can't do without.

"Oh. Right."

"I haven't told him by the way. Although I think he's guessed, because Kurt drove past yesterday eight times before I went out and invited him in. And Burt rang and told me he was on his way over."

"Really? Eight times?"

"Mmm."

"Oh shit, Kurt!"

"We really need to talk about your language!" His dad calls after him as he runs back inside, and he's kind of glad to know Kurt didn't just drive around yesterday and stride up to his front door, because he'd looked so calm and composed, like they haven't been sharing their deepest secrets and fears with each other for the last few weeks. He gets back to three e-mails saying he has a private message from FruitLover and he refreshes the conversation.

_You there?_

_David?_

_Hello?_

Oh shit. This is why he sucks in real life. He could have talked to his dad later. _Idiot._

_**Sorry. I had to go yell at my dad. You still here?**_

_I'm here. You yelled at him. Why?_

_**Okay, so I didn't yell exactly. I just freaked out a bit at him. I mean, your dad kind of scares me.**_

_My dad? Why? My dad's a marshmallow. And he didn't exactly seem worried when I asked for your address or that I was coming to see you._

_**Fuck. He knows where I live.**_

_I doubt very much that he's going to hunt you down. I think they've been talking since last year._

_**I -know- they have. Man, my dad hordes secrets like Imelda Marcos horded shoes. **_

_You know who Imelda Marcos is?_

_**Yes. Let me guess, you want a shoe collection like hers. **_

_I would need the mansion first. But when I'm a big name star? Definitely._

_This is kind of weird._

_**Yeah.**_

_Good weird though._

He grins so wide that his cheeks twinge and can't help but feel ecstatic. He's chatting with Kurt Hummel. Rather, Kurt Hummel's chatting with him, _knowingly_, and the world isn't falling down around his ears.

**OAA**

He thought it would feel odd, chatting to Dave, but it's the opposite, and he kind of wants to spread the feeling around. They've signed off for now, lunch beckoning both of them, and he finds himself grinning at the oddest times. Blaine's meant to be coming around so they can run through his date last night and decide whether it's a rinse or repeat type deal, although judging from Blain's previous rhapsodizing about Luke he's pretty sure it's a foregone conclusion.

Of course he now has some fairly big news himself to share, but he's torn whether to tell Blaine or not. It's not like they're together, and Blaine knows about the Valentine's Day week-long gift showering extravaganza, and like he'd said to his dad about not caring that Blaine hadn't gotten him anything. The fact that Blaine hadn't _cared_ that another guy had been paying him attention had been another sign to the both of them that their relationship was sliding back into friendship-land at a furious pace.

But to actively seek out a romantic relationship with David Karofsky? He's not sure what Blaine's take would be on that, and he's curious to know. They're best friends and Blaine is fairly level headed most of the time. His dad's complete lack of reaction is reassuring, although he wonders if his dad has any inkling that he might be bringing David home as his boyfriend rather than just a friend. He stops short. Boyfriend. He hadn't really thought that before, but _oh…_ It opens a whole other realm of possibilities and the idea of actually being able to do those things with David that he'd said originally. He really wants to be the guy he does them with. Just the thought of it has his cheeks warm and he opens his bedroom window, because it's not cooler outside, but there is at least a slight breeze.

"Kurt! Blaine's here!"

He hears the thuds of Blaine coming up the stairs and he hopes his cheeks aren't tell-tale red, although with what he's about to tell Blaine they're likely to become even redder. He goes through the routine of listening to Blaine talk about his date, and it sounds nice, dinner and a show, and he realizes, while listening, that h can't date David. Not openly like Blaine and Luke are dating. David isn't out. Not fully. Although he knows he intends to be out at college. Not immediately, but eventually, and okay, so maybe he'll have to eat his words about never dating a guy who isn't out, because he suspects that for David he will make a few exceptions.

Blaine is talking about caramel, and he's not sure how the conversation went from being about Luke's hair (maybe it could be described as caramel colored?) to being about a type of flavoring, and the fact that he instantly thinks about using caramel sauce during sex makes him think that maybe he's been overdoing reading fanfiction, because it appears that his mind has taken up a sub-let in the gutter. He wonders what things he's been saying to contribute to the conversation, because Blaine hasn't noticed anything amiss. He waits for a lull, and he knows it's a rapid subject change, but he needs to bring it up now before he either chickens out or thinks about it too hard.

"You know how I was telling you about HookedonHope?"

"Yeah. What?"

"Have you read his latest story?"

"Uh… is that the odd kind of one-shot that he wrote for some reader called FruitLover? What kind of name is FruitLover anyway?"

"_Mine._ What's yours?" Kurt bites back, because he's kind of attached to his user name now, although StarFruitLover he could kind of do without.

"What on earth made you choose _that_? I'm WarblerNumber9."

"Of course you are…" Kurt mutters, and he's thankful again that he never knew that, or that his username never made David suspect his identity earlier than yesterday in the bookshop.

"So, he wrote that for you? What does it mean?"

"Well, he's John and I'm Sherlock… And I know who he is. He figured it out yesterday and wrote that to tell me he'd figured it out… We saw each other this morning."

"What! Oh my god! _Who_ is _it_?"

"David Karofsky."

Blaine stares at him in what he can only describe as shock. He blinks rapidly and then stares at him some more.

"I… what? Karofsky writes those stories? Karofsky? _Really_?"

He nods.

"Holy shit Kurt… you mean you had cybersex with him?" Blaine's eyes bug out of his head, and okay, maybe he shouldn't have told Blaine, because he's not using a quiet voice moderated for indoor use and he leans forward and shoves a hand over his mouth.

"God Blaine! Quiet! At least I know his name now!"

He can feel Blaine smile under his hand and he pulls away, slowly, and sure enough Blaine cracks up laughing. Okay, sure, it is kind of funny, but David is so much more than just cybersex.

"You really like him…"

"I…yeah. I do. Do you think that's weird?"

Blaine shrugs, lays back on his bed and stares up at the ceiling.

"No. I mean… the internet is kind of like a curtain, or a notice board. You can say things with a sense of detachment, but at the same time be really attached, and the reply you get can mean nothing or everything. I take it you've gotten to see a side of Karofsky that I haven't…"

"Yes. Definitely. He's smart and funny, scared and shy… I would have never known any of this. He puts on this big act for the world, and I've gotten to see a behind the scenes tape."

"Good then. I'm glad."

"You don't mind?"

"Why would I mind? I just sat here for twenty minutes and told you about my date with Luke…"

"No, not that bit. That he used to bully me."

"Do you mind?"

"No."

"Then no one else's opinion matters. If you're over it, and he's come to terms with his sexuality, and I mean… he's writing slash fanfiction, I'm pretty sure he's definitely on the path to acceptance. I think you guys should go for it. If that's what you both want."

Then it hits him, because he'd been thinking very selfishly again, and David has made no overtures or indications that he'd like to translate what they had online into something more tangible in the real world. Even before they knew who the other was David didn't show any desire to meet him in person, and the story… the JohnLock story he'd written to effectively come out and tell him that he knew Kurt's identity doesn't have John and Sherlock in a romantic relationship, just as friends, and it hits him. Maybe that's all David wants.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note**: FF net does not allow for emoticons, so you just have to deal with old school *smile* and *wink*. Also with "chat" here the formatting might seem a bit off (only in a couple of places) because I'm trying to indicate the pauses in between the instant messages.

* * *

><p><strong>PART EIGHTEEN<strong>

He feels, as clichés as it sounds, like he's walking on air, but if the amused looks his dad keeps giving him, he looks like an idiot. He can't help it though, because life is good and he does feel a little out of touch with reality. He needs to write, and it's a good a distraction as any from thinking about Kurt, because he could waste a lot of time doing that. When he next looks at the clock he's somehow lost four hours. He checks his e-mail, which he always closes down while writing, the alerts too distracting, but there's no e-mail alert from Kurt, which makes him feel a little uneasy, but he ignores it. It's been a few _hours_, he really shouldn't be freaking out, but he kind of is a little bit. He posts the chapter, hours earlier than normal, but he's ahead, but then he sits there, wondering what to do.

He decides on a run, because at least then he's doing something semi-productive while over-thinking everything Kurt has ever typed to him. He changes and calls out to his dad, lets him know he's going out. He doesn't run very often. He used to use it as an excuse to get out of the house when he lived with his mom half the time, but since moving in with his dad he hasn't needed to get away like this. It's no surprise that Kurt's the one driving him to pound the pavement, and he knows a route that will take thirty-forty minutes to complete. He goes over everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours and can still barely wrap his head around it.

He's glad that Kurt got it straight away, because he's pretty sure he never could have actually _told_ him, not upfront, not after everything they've shared together anonymously. But neither could he have held back, because if Kurt did figure it out in the future, then he would have known Dave knew and didn't tell him. And if he wants to be… friends with Kurt, then he needed to be upfront with him. It was the best course of action.

Everything Kurt has ever written is almost memorized from the numerous re-readings he did last night, and there's one section he'd read over and over : _…there's no one thing I find attractive in guys… My first crush was on a jock… nice to me at a time in my life when even the smallest kindness meant a lot…I kind of liked guys that were physically bigger than me…So I don't know if I have a type, but the common theme seems to be confidence in themselves, and treating me well._ He has mixed feelings about it of course, how can he not, when he knows that he was such a big part of making Kurt's life such a misery, but he still kind of feels a tiny flare of hope that maybe they can be more than just friends.

When he gets back from his run he really wants to check his e-mail, but forces himself not to. Which he regrets as soon as he's dressed and hears his dad calling him down for dinner. His fingers feel itchy with the need to touch his keyboard, and he feels like slamming his head into the table, because he's being an overly-dramatic love-sick _idiot_, even if it's just in the privacy of his own head. When his dad waves him away from doing the dishes and tells him to go do whatever it is he needs to do he realizes that it's obviously not all in his own head, which is kind of humiliating.

There's twenty-three new e-mails, which isn't surprising considering the chapter last night, the one-shot and his new chapter, but he doesn't care about all of them right now, he scans through, looking for Kurt's user name and fuck he's glad no one can see how wide he grins when he sees it not once, but three times. One for each new chapter or story. He clicks in and reads.

_Oh wow. That epilogue was perfect. But did you deliberately leave it kind of open-ended for a sequel or was that unintentional? Have you got another story planned to take this ones place in the update schedule?_

_Another awesome chapter, but you're killing me with this amount of angst. I just want them to be happy! Is that too much to ask?_

_Hi John. I think you did exactly the right thing. You have plans for a follow-on?_

He has no idea what the last one means exactly, but he grins anyway, because there is definitely a second part to that kicking around in his head and he selects reply and types quickly.

_**Hey, you around?**_

_Yeah._

_**Chat room? Same link as before?**_

_Sure_.

He logs in and the previous chat session stares back at him in contrasting blue and purple and he swallows. _Shit._ He doesn't think he has ever moved so fast as he clears the history, feeling a little regret that his first foray into cybersex is now deleted. But rather that than have it sitting there, reminding them both of what they said to each other is vivid detail.

_**HookedonHope has entered the chatroom**_

_FruitLover has entered the chatroom_

_**Hey. **_

_Hey. I kind of don't know what to call you now. Is that weird? Also, the temptation to just come around and actually prod you into writing more is kind of tempting. Just had to tell you that. _

_**Funny. But I don't need extra motivation okay? You standing over me with a stick would be more distracting than motivating.**_

_Why would I need a stick?_

_**Uh, to prod me with it? I don't know. What else would you prod me with?**_

_I could go so many places with that, but I won't. Anyway, I have it on good authority (Finn's) that my fingers are long and jabby and as prodding instruments hurt quite a lot and are therefore quite effective._

Dave grins as he reads, because fuck it's _Kurt_, so articulate and verbose, and he manages it in writing and face-to-face, which is something he's still working on.

_**I'll take your word for it.**_

_Mmm. So, you came out to your dad. Or he guessed. Actually, my dad told him to ask. I don't think they should be allowed to talk to each other anymore. I think they're a bad influence on each other._

_**Oh, so it was your dad's idea to get my dad to almost cause my death by heart attack? Beautiful symmetry there. Yeah, I like the fact that they've been hanging out, means my dad is a lot more chilled out about everything.**_

_That's good. Has he tried to give_

_Opps. Ignore that. I was just going to ask if he's being supportive._

_**Bullshit. What were you going to ask?**_

_Nothing. It's nothing. Really._

_**Come on Kurt.**_

_David. _

_**Fine. I'm rolling my eyes at you by the way.**_

_Roll away. So, your dad and the guy from_

_Valentines?_

_**Nick? Yeah. He's pretty cool actually. Reminds me of Hudson a bit. He's trying to not be freaked out. He's fine most of the time. **_

_That's good. I'm glad it worked out for you. Not such a nine-inch thick reinforced-steel closet anymore. And only two weeks left of school…_

_**One for me. Friday's my last day. Fuck, I can't wait for it to be over. And I'd say the walls are down to about five inches thick. Maybe less. So, what did you do with your afternoon? I wrote. Obviously.**_

_Blaine came around and hung out. We talked. I told him about you._

Dave feels his hands freeze and he re-reads the last sentence. He doesn't know if he wants to know, but his fingers start moving of their own volition.

_**What did you tell him exactly?**_

_Well, he already knew about HH, and the uh, Tuesday night thing, because I pretty much tell him everything._

He freezes. Kurt might know him now, but Blaine? He can't imagine how this would go down well in any universe and his mind is imagining dozens of terrible things, not unlike when his dad sat him down to tell him about Judy.

_**He tried to talk you out of it didn't he? Blaine I mean.**_

_Talk me out of what? _

_David?_

_You mean being friends with you?_

He stares at the word and he feels ridiculous, because _of course_ Kurt just wants to be friends, and he hasn't written anything for about five minutes, the cursor blinking as if it's mocking him, and he feels like an idiot all over again. _Friends_. Right.

_**Yeah.**_

_No. He didn't try and talk me out of anything. He said I should do whatever makes me happy. Well, I'm paraphrasing. But he said the only opinion that matters is mine. And I don't care. But… _

He closes his eye, because he knew there was a '_but'_ coming, and he wonders if he can disconnect without opening his eyes, because he doesn't want to be shot down again. He _can_ deal with the rejection again, deal with just being with Kurt's friend, but he can't believe that he got so close to only have it slip away. Life just feels too cruel right now.

_**It's okay. I get it. I'll talk to you later.**_

He disconnects.

OAA

Kurt stares at David's last words, at the bolded text and frowns, looks at his unsent text and blinking cursor and presses enter anyway.

_**HookedonHope has left the chatroom**_

_But despite what my friends might say I kind of want to date you. _

He re-reads the last few messages, playing them over in his head, wondering between the difference of this, and what they would have said face-to-face and it clicks. Sort of. David thinks _he_ wants to be friends. Just friends. Which is all sorts of stupid. But god, he hasn't been any smarter. _All_ of his fics have featured John and Sherlock as a romantic couple, that's why he left it so open, because he's leaving it completely up to him, and _shit shit shit…_ He's torn between being angry at himself, because well, _idiot_, but also the more he thinks about it, David hung up on him. Well. Kind of. Disconnected? That sounds more correct. Either way, he starts to feel more and more annoyed that they couldn't even talk this out. Well tough. They're talking. He grabs a jacket and stomps down the stairs.

"Dad, I'm going to David's!"

"Wow, twice in one day…"

"What?"

"Nothing! I'll see you when you get home. School night remember!"

He rolls his eyes, because he has exactly ten days left of school, and it's not like anything exciting is going to happen between now and graduation that means he needs to be on full alert all the time but he shouts his acknowledgement over his shoulder. He definitely knows the way to David's house now, and he drives, mind on what he wants to say. Or do. By the time he pulls up outside David's house he still hasn't decided, but screw it, he can wing it. The front door is already open and he rolls his eyes again.

"Let me guess. My dad called."

Paul Karofsky nods and ushers him inside. He doesn't bother asking if David's home, he saw David's truck outside, and it's only been fifteen minutes since he disconnected, and _clearly_ his dad called and told him he was on his way around.

"Upstairs and second door on the right."

He glances towards the stairs and then back at Mr Karofsky, who is watching him, looking far too amused for his liking. He nods and heads for the stairs, throwing a _'thanks'_ over his shoulder as he goes.


	19. Chapter 19

_Kurt communicating (text, e-mail, chat)_

_**Dave communicating (text, e-mail, chat)**_

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><p>PART NINETEEN<p>

He takes the stairs quietly, slightly slower than he would usually, mind racing as he tries to figure out what he's going to say, because winging it has only got him to here. Every time they've seen each other conversation has been stilted. Except on Valentine's Day, which had been awkward on an entirely _different_ level. Yesterday had been okay actually, because David had seemed fairly intent on doing his job, or silently freaking out, he's not entirely sure. He'd been a bit _distracted_ himself, but he knows they can talk face-to-face, they just have to _start_ somewhere. And this morning, he'd kind of been a little distracted again, because hello, _boxers_. But David should be dressed now, and he bites his lip to stop a hysterical laugh escaping, because he doesn't know if he'd prefer that or not. He's _screwed._

The door is closed and he wonders if he should knock. _Of course_ he should knock. _Obviously_. He would hate someone to just walk into his room. David could be doing anything in there. Oh god. He has done anything in there. And everything. He can feel the heat creeping up his neck, burning his ears and he can't think about this right now. Even knocking seems too sudden and then inspiration hits him and he pulls his phone out of his pocket, thumbing through to David's number. One he's never used before, but there's a first time for everything and he's hoping this number becomes his most used. He taps in a short message and sends it, feeling more than a little ridiculous. He's sending a text message through a _door_. He's an adult. Or close enough. He should be able to just talk to him face-to-face.

_What are you doing?_

His phone vibrates with the return message and he rolls his eyes.

_**Kurt?**_

_Yes. We did exchange numbers remember?_

He hears a thump through the door and wonders what is going on and he raises a hand to knock and then lets it fall again.

_**Right.**_

_So, what are you up to?_

_**Reading. You?**_

Huh. He's pretty sure '_Standing outside your bedroom door feeling like an idiot_' would get his point across but it sounds a bit stalkerish and his mind scrambles for something to say.

_Reading too_.

Okay, he's reading text messages, but he can argue semantics later and he whips around when he hears footsteps on the stairs. Paul Karofsky appears and looks at him, head turned to one side, brow furrowed and mouth open as if he's about to say something. He waves his hand and holds a finger to his lips, mouths _please_ and okay, he clearly looks half-insane right now, standing outside his son's bedroom door silently, phone in hand. Mr Karofsky just makes that face, the same one his dad makes when he's done something he knows he'll never understand, walks past him, disappears into another room on the opposite side of the hallway and then goes past him again, still looking at him as if he's lost his mind. Maybe he has.

_**What are you reading? The books you bought?**_

Trust David to be interested in what he's reading, and he can't tell him that all he's reading is text messages, or the patterns in the carpet. He closes his eyes and cringes. So he's not really giving David much warning after all, although it's slightly better than this morning. However if he waits any longer he's going to run out of courage, because his previous thoughts, about being torn between running away in embarrassment and attacking HookedonHope with uh, lust, have nothing on what he's feeling right now.

_I'm pretty sure your dad thinks I'm crazy._

_**What? Why? Because of this morning? And driving past eight times?**_

Huh. He knows about that. Surely David can't think that he's not at least a little bit interested. Eight times is seven times too many for a guy that just wants to be friends. So there's a breakdown in communication somewhere, which is odd, considering how much they're actually communicating, but they're talking at cross purposes, or in different languages, or assuming things…

_Partially. But more because he just walked past me in the hallway. _

_**What? MY hallway?**_

He's tempted to text back a biting reply but instead knocks on the door, heart starting to beat a bit faster. He hears something drop to the floor, followed by David swearing and he bites his lip in partial amusement, partial nerves. Then the door opens and he's standing there, fully dressed, wearing the glasses from yesterday and David's blinking at him, as if he clears his vision enough times Kurt will disappear and he resists the urge to reach out and pinch him. It's the second time today he's had to resist reaching out and touching.

"Kurt. Hi…"

"Hi." He wonders is he looks as shy as he feels, because he feels like Bashful, likes he's blushing and toeing the carpet out of embarrassment.

"Been standing here long?"

"Uh. Yeah. Your dad let me in."

"My dad does a lot of things apparently…" David mutters, and he hides a smile, because he's kind of felt the same way about his own dad in the last twenty-four hours.

"So, can I come in, or…"

"Uh sure, sorry. Um. Sorry about the mess. I'm kind of in the middle of unpacking from the move from my mom's and figuring out what I can't live without so I can re-pack it for New York…"

"I completely understand. My room looks the same. But with more clothes and a lot less books."

David huffs in amusement and they both seem to relax slightly and he feels a little odd being in David's bedroom. Which isn't what he expected. Though he's not sure what he expected exactly, more sports posters probably. Despite the mess the room feels calm, a bit too many cool colors for him, but it suits Dave. Blue paint dominates with plaid wallpaper on one wall. With model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, piles of books, boxes half-filled and David is shoving things out of the way as fast as he can to clear a space where he can sit, and he picks his way carefully to the chair in the corner, where David can sit opposite him on his bed. Huh. He forces his mind to shut down on that and looks up to find David watching him.

"This is really surreal."

"I can pinch you if you like," Kurt offers, grinning wider when David huffs again in amusement.

"I don't think that'll be necessary. You did just warn me about you pokey-fingers-of-doom."

He feels his cheeks warm, because his fingers can be used for pleasure just as much as pain, and online he'd say something to that effect, but now, faced with David's slightly startled but pleased expression, he can't even begin to voice it aloud. Which is stupid, because he _knows_ what goes on in David's head. He's _read_ most of it. Under that sweet innocent looking exterior is… someone with an imagination that sets him on fire. Someone who he has opened up to so much over the last few weeks that he'd consider David, well HookedonHope, as close a friend as Blaine. David isn't suddenly going to think any less of him if he says a few dirty things out loud.

"Mmm. So, I have a bone to pick with you. You logged off before I got to say something earlier, so I thought I'd come around and sort it out. Talk to you about it."

David has frozen, eyes wide and he bites his lip. David had said he wasn't good face-to-face. How he keeps screwing things up, and okay, he probably hasn't helped David overly much if their much earlier discussion face-to-face are anything to go by, but they've been okay for over a year now, and if he wants to date him then they need to be able to have a conversation. Although, if they can't, there are always _other_ activities.

"What are we not talking about?"

"Well, I don't know how you feel of course, but I feel, that with the person I've gotten to know, I'd very much like to get to know them further. _Better_." There. He can't be any clearer than that.

"Uh. What?"

David's eyes are on him, and he smiles, lips trembling slightly, and he gets now how David must have felt laying himself bare on Valentine's Day, and the thought that he might be about to be rejected is physically painful, but he needs to risk it, because he kind of knows they could be good together. Great even, and he just wants a chance to show David that. And finally give David the chance to show him. Which David wanted to do three months ago. _Fuck_. He really is an idiot sometimes.

"I'd like to date you. I'm interested in you. I want to be more than friends. I… want to know what you…think of that."

David stares at him and then his knees seem to give out. Fortunately it just results in him sitting abruptly on his bed, but he's pretty sure he heard the clack of teeth and David still hasn't said anything, is just rubbing his face and continues to stare at him

"David?"

"I -" he makes a partial choking sound and coughs. "You're serious?"

"Yes. Is that, um, a bad thing?"

David's mouth opens, then shuts before opening again and he mumbles quietly.

"Yeah. No. I mean… you really want to go out with me?"

"Yes. I really do."

"Uh. Okay?"

He phrases it as a question and he can't help but grin, feels his face splitting wider and wider until David starts smiling back, a little hesitantly, but then he's pretty sure they're wearing matching grins. He's not going to stop himself a third time and he gets out of the chair, knowing David's eyes are on him and steps towards him. He figured he'd be the one to have to make the first move, and he's more than okay with that, because he knows David will catch up fast. He takes the final step so that he's standing directly in front of David, one knee just between his and he looks down into David's face. Notices the wide eyes behind his glasses, the slightly open mouth, either in shock or anticipation, the way his hair curls over the tops of his ears, his beauty mark. Lots of little things he's never noticed before, or cared to notice before.

"This okay?"

David nods mutely and he leans down, presses his lips softly to David's in what he intends to be a quick and fairly chaste peck on the lips. Except he hadn't bargained for the sudden feel of Dave's hands on his hips, not gripping, but firm, supportive and he lets his own hand move to rest on David's shoulder, bracing against him and lets himself lean into the kiss a bit more. David smells fresh and clean, and as he flicks his tongue out, testing, and David's mouth opens and he feels the hot slide of tongue against his own, which is a bit shocking, but not as shocking as the sudden firm grip that David has on hips, pulling him closer.

The angle is awkward, only because David is sitting and he's standing and he hadn't wanted to get too close, to crowd him, but the kiss isn't awkward at all. It's soft and exploratory, and firm and incessant all at once, which he didn't think was possible but is more than happy to be proved wrong on this point. He needs to bend his knees to maintain contact, and he has no objections to moving closer. His mind is trying to point out that they haven't actually been on a date yet, and that curling fingers into hair and running a tongue over teeth has moved on quite considerably from the intended chaste kiss. He ignores it, because he'd only gone for chaste in the first place because he'd thought it would be awkward and just wanted to get it over and done with. Instead his knee is now resting on the bed between David's thighs, precariously close to his crotch, and he's pretty sure he could sit on David's knee right now, and he lowers himself further, mind flicking between the feel of David's lips and his hands, and then the firm solid warmth of this thigh as he rests on it.

**OAA**

He knows it's happening, because he might have imagined what Kurt tasted like, but well, he'd never have thought it would be cardamom. And slightly minty. And that he's actually a lot firmer than he imagined as well, which he _likes._ A lot. Muscular, and he can feel the jut of hipbones, and okay, he might be slightly obsessive, but Kurt's hipbones have always fascinated him. When he feels Kurt settle himself, tentatively, on his leg, he almost jolts, because Kurt's ass is resting on his _leg_, his arms are looped around his neck and fingers are twisted into his hair. His eyes fly open and he pulls back, almost falling back onto his bed but he moves a hand from Kurt's hip to prop himself up, because falling back onto his bed would kind of send the wrong message right now.

"Hi…" Kurt says, and he sounds breathy, but he's smiling and thank fuck for that, but he still feels like things are a little out of hand and he's the one to blame.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to uh…"

"Trust me, that is _not_ something you have to apologize for… I would say something. Okay?"

He nods, knowing he's probably blushing right now, but he kind of needs Kurt to lead the way here, he's not going to be able to just grab him and do what he wants. Not with their history, and he hopes Kurt realizes that. Not that he doesn't want to, because it's _Kurt_, but he's acutely aware of just how easily he could screw this up. _So many ways in which he could screw it up completely_.

"I'd expect you to say something as well okay?"

He snorts, because he's pretty sure everything Kurt does isn't going to be met with any objection from him, but at Kurt's expectant look he nods and mutters _'sure'_ under his breath. He's suddenly dating Kurt, and just the idea fizzes in his mind, and Kurt has to know he'd pretty much do anything for him and he blinks and ducks his head, hiding a grin as he feels Kurt move from his lap to sit beside him, because life feels pretty damn amazing right now.

A cough from the doorway makes him turn his head, and _fuck,_ his dad is standing there looking shell-shocked and he wonders exactly how long he's been there. Kurt has stiffened beside him and muttered a curse word under his breath, but it's not _his_ dad that just caught them making out. Oh _shit_. His dad coughs again and is looking at the ceiling, eyes intent on the model planes and Dave groans. Of course his sense of euphoria has to be replaced by mortification. His life has never been such equal parts awesome and embarrassing at the same time.

"Uh, sorry to uh, interrupt, but uh, Kurt, your dad phoned. Said you weren't answering your phone. Wanted to remind -"

"He wanted to remind me it's a school night. Right."

He can almost _hear_ Kurt rolling his eyes and he shoots him a quick look. He looks amused, and maybe a bit embarrassed as well, but mainly unconcerned.

"I better go. David, I'll chat to you later. I never signed out so I hope to talk to you soon."

He gets a quick kiss to his cheek that makes him grin and he watches as Kurt almost _skips_ out of his room, particularly with all the little jumps he has to do to maneuver around the boxes. He says goodbye to his dad and he listens as Kurt goes down the stairs. His dad is watching him again, looking far more embarrassed than him, which he supposes is a good thing, but he knows what is coming, and he'd _thought_ he couldn't be any more embarrassed this evening. He's wrong.

"So, I think we need to set out some ground rules and have a talk… about um, sex," his dad starts and Dave throws himself back onto his bed, reaching for a pillow and holds it over his head, this can't be happening.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note 2<strong>: The next chapter is an interlude. It is not Kurt and Dave, but their dad's talking. I just had to write it.


	20. INTERLUDE

**Burtofsky scene - Burt and Paul have a conversation**

* * *

><p><strong>INTERLUDE<strong>

It's an easy routine now, Paul turns up to the garage with a couple of beers on a Monday evening before dinner and they sit in the office and talk. He's safe from Kurt catching him because of glee practice, and Paul doesn't seem the type to have ever needed to make excuses to anyone. The first time Paul had come it had been deliberate. He'd come and apologized, and they'd talked. Then he'd been back three weeks later, asking how he knew Kurt was gay. Then it had become fortnightly until it had slipped into weekly sessions. It'd gotten to the point where Carole had jokingly referred to Paul as his husband, and he'd been a little affronted, that maybe she was feeling neglected, and she'd just been amused and told him it was good that he was making friends, especially with Kurt leaving for college.

She was right of course. He doesn't have many friends. Being a solo-parent and running a business didn't leave a lot of time or energy to foster friendships, so they've struck up what had seemed like an unlikely friendship. Now he can't imagine anything different. They argue over football, because of course they don't support the same team, that would be too easy. They've talked about family, parenting, politics, women, cars and pretty much any other topic that comes to them. Up until two days ago he probably knew more about Dave Karofsky than Kurt, only from his father's point of view of course, but they'd talked about it. Hypothesized.

"You give terrible advice…"

"What? Why? My advice has been great so far…" Burt replies, popping the cap off two bottles and passing one to Paul.

"Make sure the door is open you said…"

"Wait. Was it closed?"

"Well, the first time it was. I went up there, to, you know, tell them to keep the door open, except…"

"Except _what_?" Burt asks, because _sure_ Kurt's his own man now, but he's still his little boy and the idea of him with anyone is kind of disheartening, but only in the _'my little boy is growing up'_ type way. He has to get used to it though, a couple more months and Kurt will be in New York. By himself. Although maybe not so much by himself anymore, and that idea is slightly heartening at least.

"Kurt hadn't even gone in! He was just standing there on one side of the closed door. Looked like he was texting someone. I mean… why? I had to pretend I was up there for something else." Burt relaxes and laughs a little, because he's been there before. "And then I went up a little while later, and the door was wide open, and I thought it would be safe you know, that they'd just be talking…"

"Oh god, what were they doing?"

"Kissing! Just kissing. I think. I mean, I didn't look too closely but I'm pretty sure I saw all four hands. But… I had to repeat the sex talk Burt. No parent should have to go through that twice. And well, between his hysterical fits of giggles and my mumbling my way through it, I don't think he learnt anything! He knows nothing about sex!"

"What did you tell him exactly?"

"Uh. Well… not a lot. Except that he should read the book I got him. And not hand himself out like a free sample at a convention…"

"You got him a book?"

"Yeah, the uh, The Joy of Gay Sex."

Huh. A book is actually a good idea and he wonders if maybe he should get a copy for Kurt for his birthday, or maybe just incase…

"Doesn't he work in a bookstore?"

"Yeah. I ordered it online."

"I mean, don't you think he probably already has a copy?"

"Why would he have a copy? Why would he _need_ a copy?"

Burt looks at him incredulously and then starts laughing.

"When did you first start getting curious about girls Paul? Thirteen? Fourteen? Come on, be realistic, he's eighteen. He probably got it the first week he was working there or something."

"I'd like to point out that your son is also eighteen, and having had a boyfriend the chances of him having had sex are significantly higher than David…"

That shuts him up abruptly, but he really doesn't want to think about it. He's never asked Kurt whether he and Blaine had sex when they were together, just figured he'd done his best as a parent and prepared him as well as he could for life. He doesn't need to know, but he figures it can't have been traumatic or horrible if he's still such good friends with Blaine. But the fact that he's such good friends with Blaine makes him think that they haven't, but he's pretty sure that's either denial or wishful thinking. Either way, he doesn't need to know.

He takes a long drink from his beer bottle and changes the subject.


	21. Chapter 20

**Author's note**: I wrote a brief (~800 word) conversation between Burt and Paul, which will be referred to obliquely, so you don't need to have read it, but you'll probably find this chapter funnier if you do.

_Kurt communicating via technology_

_**Dave communicating**__**via technology**_

* * *

><p><strong>PART TWENTY<strong>

The only thing that got him through that mortifying experience was knowing he'd be chatting with Kurt again before the end of the night. His dad leaves, shooting a pleading glance towards the book he bought him and he shakes his head before grabbing it and shoving it in his stash box. The one labeled _Middle school books_, which will hopefully keep anyone out, but it might make his dad question why it has to go to New York with him. He pulls his laptop toward him on the desk and turns it on, clicking into the chat room, and like before their conversation is all still there.

_**HookedonHope has left the chatroom**_

_But despite what my friends might say I kind of want to date you. _

_I'm home. Let me know when you're on. Send me a text or something. *smile*_

_**HookedonHope has entered the chatroom**_

He feels like a complete fool, but he screen caps it and saves it, and Kurt hasn't even bothered to leave the chat room since signing in. He's glad he logged out when he did though, because if Kurt responds like that every time he lets his idiocy reign or his insecurities swamp him then they might actually have a chance. He pulls out his phone and sends a text message, typing the same message into the chat room at the same time.

_**You around?**_

He picks up the book he was reading earlier; the same one he's dropped a couple of times when Kurt had started texting him. It's a historical drama he's reading for work, so that he can write a review on it, the bonus being he gets to keep the book at the end. He actually reads the books, unlike some of his other workmates. He's only managed a couple of pages when his laptop chimes quietly alerting him to a message.

_I'm here. *smile* How was your dad after I left? He looked a little freaked out._

He grins, because freaked out is a pretty apt description really. He'd been a little freaked out as well, but had gotten over it pretty quickly, because being kissed had definitely snapped his attention to pin-point focus and nothing else had mattered.

_**Yeah, he was a little uncomfortable I think. I had to endure a sex talk. -Again-. And then he gave me a book, one I already own, and I definitely showed him exactly how mature I am by snorting with laughter every five seconds. Yeah. Awkward. Obviously a day for awkward conversations.**_

_What book was it?_

_**The Joy of Gay Sex. **_

_There's a book?_

_**Seriously Kurt? **_

_**There are books for -everything-. -Lots- of books. **_

_**I like reading.**_

He bites his lip and grins, because normally he'd add a wink after that, because well, reading is what started this whole thing, but knowing it's Kurt on the other end makes him feel a little more restrained, like he needs to test the waters before he starts outright flirting again. Although if they're dating then surely he _should_ flirt with him right?

_So do I. *wink*_

He laughs out loud at that and bites a knuckle, because _good,_ they aren't going to pretend that that never happened; their flirty back-and-forth banter online. He could never do it in person. Not yet. He feels self-conscious and seriously out of his depth when faced with Kurt in person, but he knows that's not the real him, and he suspects that Kurt knows that now as well. He just has to give himself time, and he has plenty of that, and Kurt doesn't seem to mind. He's fairly certain that once he has some confidence though he might

_So you have two copies then? You can give one to me? _

He has nothing in his mouth, so he's not quite sure how he manages to choke, but it's likely on his own tongue, and _fuck_, it's only just occurred to him. Sex. He's talked about sex a lot with Kurt. FruitLover. That's fine. He's not freaked out by it, or ashamed of the idea of it or the fact that he _likes_ the idea of sex. But now he's going out with Kurt, dating him, except he's not sure what that will entail exactly, and it's always seemed a pretty murky-grey area to him. Does that mean he's not single? Not that there's an army of guys wanting to date him, but he'd kind of like to know.

_David?_

_**Sorry. Busy laughing. Sure you can have the book, you should have stayed for the talk too. I mean, I get that he's trying to look out for me, but it's gone from 'don't get anyone pregnant' to…**_

_**Well, let's just say I'm never going to look at a free sample the same way ever again.**_

_No thanks, I've had my fair share of uncomfortable talks with my dad, I don't need them from your dad as well._

_And don't get me started on the double standards. I know if I were straight my dad would be fine with closed doors. He was when I was dating Brittany anyway._

_**Huh. So I'm betting the whole open door thing has come from your dad then. You're right, they shouldn't be allowed to talk. He never insisted on it with Santana. I forgot that you went out with Brittany.**_

_You had Santana at your house? Brave._

_And yeah, our one-time girlfriends are now going out. I'm sure there must be a joke in there somewhere._

_**Yeah. I mean, Santana is kind of a control freak. We had Bullywhips schedules to work out, and then the whole prom thing…she was kind of obsessed.**_

He pauses, doesn't know what to write next, because he screwed up so often and in so many ways he still kind of wonders why Kurt even talks to him. Sure Kurt knows him better know, but Kurt forgave him over a year ago, when their contact was pretty much limited to him walking Kurt to classes and short sharp nods when the passed each other in the hallways at other times. Seeing him in Scandals, he'd only approached him because he felt comfortable there. And Valentine's Day because his online friends had convinced him he had nothing to lose.

_I'm sorry about that._

_**What?**_

_For telling you that you should come out, to the whole school, at prom. I know it's your biggest fear._

_**Dude, you don't have to apologize for anything. Seriously Kurt, you don't need to say sorry. I'm the one that should never stop saying sorry.**_

_No._

_You don't get to do that. You have nothing left to apologize for. _

_You apologized and I forgave you._

_I'm not starting something with you if you feel that you need to be making it up to me all the time._

_I want someone who is my equal, not someone that who feels he has to let me get my way all the time because of a messed history. _

_I screwed up too, I can see that now, looking back, and I never apologized._

_Of course, from here on out if you screw up then I expect a separate apology._

_Are you listening to me David?_

_David?_

His hands are hovering over the keyboard and he hasn't managed to type anything with the speed at which Kurt's been typing and sending messages. He's pretty sure Kurt's being overly simplistic and idealistic, because there're generally always some imbalances in a relationship, some give-and-take, but he gets where Kurt is coming from, but he can't promise that he won't forever feel bad about his past actions, but he doesn't need that guilt there to make him want to treat Kurt like a prince. He just has to let Kurt know that.

_**All I can do is try and be myself. **_

Fuck he hopes that that's enough.

**OAA**

"You seem in a pretty good mood…" Nick states, bumping him roughly with his shoulder in greeting and Dave grins, shrugs. He _is_ in a good mood, and it's kind of nice that it's so apparent to someone else, plus it's his last Monday at high school, so he has multiple reasons to be happy. This part of his life is almost over. Thankfully.

"Yep."

"You want to tell me why? Wait… do I want to know?"

He laughs, shrugs again, because no, Nick probably doesn't want to know, but he can give him an edited version.

"I am in a fantastic mood, not only do we only have five days of school left, _ever_, but my weekend was _awesome_."

"Did you, uh, get laid or something?"

Dave stops walking and stares at him. He's never talked guy talk, not actual talk where the other guy knew he was gay. He's made noises about tits and asses within a general group, but he stopped doing that when he transferred. He kept quiet on _all_ fronts. Nick has asked knowing if he got laid it would have been with a guy, it's kind of weird. Refreshing. _Odd._

"I… no. Dude. I don't need to get laid to have an awesome weekend. And as if I would tell you anyway…"

"Definitely a no then…" Nick says, and he's laughing at him.

"Fuck off," Dave mutters, punching Nick's shoulder, laughing as well, because it's kind of nice, being mocked this way. It makes him miss Az though, because they always gave each other shit, and he's kind of curious to know how he would react.

"So, what, no other reason for the good mood? Just school finishing. Fair enough though, I mean, I'm happy about that myself. Just… you're _really_ happy."

"I… yeah." He glances around, and there are people, but no one is really paying attention, and Nick is a friend, mostly. "You remember Valentine's Day?"

"Yeah."

"The guy from Valentine's Day?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, he's…" _My boyfriend?_ "Uh, well, he's, we're…"

"Dude, doesn't he have a boyfriend?"

"Did have… yeah."

He gets another shove and Nick's grinning and nodding. It feels kind of nice to share this with someone in person, because even though he'd put the screen cap on his blog last night and said that he's not so single anymore and his online friends had been pretty freaking ecstatic for him, what Nick is offering is something completely different; it's kind of nice.

**OAA**

Kurt isn't really paying attention to the documentary playing on the screen. The teachers have gotten even lazier, in fact he's pretty sure Mrs. Honeywell is asleep at her desk. He's more than okay with it, it gives him more time to daydream and plan for New York. Mercedes is passing him a note when there's a knock at the door. The runner, the poor freshman sent into a den of bored seniors. The dim lighting probably doesn't help, but she spies him and… _oh_. It _is_ for him. He straightens in his seat and smiles, accepting the single flower, which looks like a rose.

"Flowers Kurt? Well, flower rather?" Mercedes whispers, and of course everyone's interest is suddenly centered on him instead of the documentary, which has finished anyway, the credits rolling. "Who is it from?"

He flicks open the card, and there isn't enough light in the room to really read it so he just shrugs, although he knows exactly who has sent it. He doesn't know if David would have been so bold as to sign it off with his own name though, and he's not going to say anything. If he _has_ signed his own name and someone steals the card… well, then he'll deal with that if it happens.

"I can't see…" he says, and is then blinded by the lights flicking on, the blinds being wound up and the bell ringing. What he had thought was a single dark-colored rose is in fact a brightly multi-colored one, clearly artificially colored in rainbow shades. It's stunning. Mercedes takes advantage of his distraction to snap the tiny gift card from his hand and…

"Who's HH?"

"Hmm. I don't know…" Kurt replies, picking up his bag and settling the strap over his shoulder. He holds the rose carefully, notes how carefully it's been wrapped and he wonders what David's source is, because he would have no idea where to get such a thing.

"Liar. You so do! Who is it? Are you and Blaine getting back together?"

"What? No. Blaine's dating Luke? Remember? The guy you were gushing over just last weekend?"

"Pfft. You guys were cute together. Luke's cute too though…"

They start walking towards the door and he can see Blaine waiting for them so they can all go to lunch together and the flower is plucked from his hand and he rolls his eyes.

"Nice… it's really unusual."

"He won't tell me who it's from…" Mercedes mutters.

"Same guy as Valentine's?" Blaine queries, and he nods, even though he considers it a stupid question. Who else is it going to be? Blaine grins and he grins back. It's good to know that even if he might not like David himself, he's fine with Kurt's decision, and when all this comes out, he's pretty sure he's going to need Blaine's support.

"Wait, I thought Blaine sent those things…that wasn't you?"

Blaine laughs and shakes his head and Kurt blushes, because well, he's never corrected anyone else about his misconceptions. They enter the cafeteria and line up and Mercedes is looking decidedly pissed off.

"So you have a secret admirer. Or not so secret. It's signed HH. And you both know who it is…"

"Who both know what now?" Puck asks, pushing into line with them and crap, this is about to get circus like.

"Kurt has a secret admirer. Actually a secret this time, because last time we all just thought it was Blaine… wait, is it a secret if you know who it is?"

"You know who gorilla guy is?" Puck asks and Kurt rolls his eyes. "'Cause my money was on Evans."

"Sam isn't gay," Mercedes snaps and Kurt looks at her, because the tone of voice is just a little insulting. "Not that being gay is bad, I just… get a little defensive. Remember in Sophomore year when I had a bit of a crush on you?"

"Wait, you had a crush on Kurt?" Puck asks, and then starts laughing. He's not sure why, but he feels even more insulted by the laughter.

"Why shouldn't she? Kurt's pretty bangin'. For a guy. I mean, if I were gay I'd date him…" Sam says, joining them at the table and Puck spreads his hands out in supplication as if his point has just been proven.

"Thank you Sam. I'm touched, truly. However my love life is not actually up for discussion right now."

"It kind of is," Blaine states, waving the flower in the air and he wants to snap at him to be careful.

"And you're okay with this? This other guy wanting to date Kurt?" Mercedes asks and Blaine looks amused.

"I'm sorry, did you miss the memo about us breaking up? And the fact that I'm dating Luke? Anyway, any guy that makes Kurt happy is okay in my books."

Mercedes doesn't look appeased at all, although he's insanely grateful for the fact that Blaine has already spied potential problems and has started laying the groundwork for when he can tell people he's dating David.

"So what does HH stand for?"

"Happy Hummel?" Puck suggests.

"Oh my god…" Kurt mumbles, and lets his forehead hit the table.


	22. Chapter 21

**Author's note**: A reminder that this is an AU, but follows canon pretty closely up until Heart because I wanted to write something fluffy. FLUFFY.

* * *

><p><strong>PART TWENTY-ONE<strong>

When he sits down at the table for lunch several of the guys smile and greet him and he smiles back, hesitant, puzzled. Then he realizes: Friday night. The movies. It's not like he was ostracized before, but after saying no to multiple invitations he stopped getting asked and that's been the status quo for the year. Obviously saying yes to Nick and going along has made him lose some of the social stigma they'd slapped on him, and he reminds himself he only has a few days before he never has to see these people again if he doesn't want to, although he never really gave them a chance either, although he doubts they're all like Nick.

"Dude, you coming to the party on Friday night?"

"Uh…" he looks to Nick who shrugs.

"You should totally come man," Jarvis states, and he watches as the guys around him inhale food.

"It's not just the team, it's all the seniors… you just live with your head buried about everything. I mean, if you weren't on the team I'd totally think you were a geek…"

"Uh, thanks I think? I'll have to check my schedule…"

"Ooohhh, he has a schedule…"

"Fuck off. I think my grandparents and sister might be coming for graduation…"

"What, you're going to pass up a party to hang out with family?"

"Bring your sister. It's not starting till late. Granny and Pops will be in bed…"

"I…"

"Come on, you'll enjoy yourself. Probably."

"My sister it twenty-one. I'm pretty sure the last thing she would want to do is hang out with a bunch of guys from high school."

"Hey, she could buy the alcohol!"

"Uh, no, she wouldn't do that," he replies, but hell yes she would. Sarah is… was… no, definitely still is rebellious. Although he's sure their mom brings out the worst in her.

"Oh, so it's a family trait then…" James says, and he's kind of gratified when Nick gives him the finger on his behalf. His phone vibrates and he feels a little spike of apprehension before pulling it out and reading the message.

_Thank you for the flower. It's beautiful. Talk to you tonight?_

_**Of course. Glad you liked it.**_

He looks up to find Nick smirking at him, smug asshole, and he kicks him under the table. He's glad Kurt liked the flower though, and he'll have to thank Suzanne, the florist and gift-shop owner at the mall. The one who had helped him implement his whole Valentine's Day thing, but who he'd only told this morning that the object of his attention is another guy. He'd been on the phone, so he couldn't tell what she thought really, but she'd continued talking and asking questions, so he's pretty sure she doesn't care.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. His locker is already empty and he just keeps stopping by it out of habit rather than anything else. He feels lighter, knowing that he's going to be out of here soon. He doesn't know if he would feel differently if he were still at McKinley, but he doubts it. There are as many bad memories of McKinley as there are good, but here it's just been monotonous, and he's glad to be leaving. The seniors in tears, the ones that come up and ask him tearfully to sign their yearbooks baffle him, but he obliges anyway. Nick catches him just as he's about to get into his car and he stops, braces himself between the open door and the roof of the car.

"You going to come on Friday?"

"I'll think about it…"

"Dude, bring your boy…"

"Kurt?"

"Is that his name?" He nods. "Yeah. Bring him…"

"Nick, are you… Fuck. You're serious? Do you have any idea how badly that could go? Roomful of people who don't know and I just land it on them like that? It took you months to get used to the idea and you're still…"

"Still what?"

"You're trying, and I really appreciate it man, more than you'll ever know, seriously. But in high school you're the exception…"

"Dude, I'm completely okay with you being gay okay? It's not a big deal for me. What is a big deal is that I've got to keep it secret and I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not used to being the soul of discretion."

He laughs, because Nick's got a point. He has to be one of the most gossip-hungry guys Dave knows and keeping something like this quiet has probably been killing him inside.

"So how do you see it playing out if I suddenly barge out of my closet by turning up to a party with a guy?"

"Well, Jarvis, James, Brian and Al would, I think, be okay with it. Or rather, not care. Brian would be seriously uncomfortable but wouldn't say or do anything. Mitchel could mouth of, but I mean, I could take him…"

"Yeah, I really don't know if I want my first date to be where I could potentially be dealing with a mob of homophobic, likely drunk idiots."

"Huh. Yeah. Fair enough. Could you make it your second date?"

"I… _what_?"

"You know, go on a date with him before Friday."

"Uh. I don't want _any_ of my dates to be like that…"

"Dude, it might not be. Seriously, I think you'll probably shock everyone into silence and no one would say anything until you'd left."

Nick's probably right, but he really doesn't want his first date with Kurt to be that, but that means fitting in another date before Friday, and while his social calendar is blank he's pretty sure Kurt's isn't. And he doesn't even know if he's the one that should be doing the asking.

"I'll think about it."

"Cool. I'll see you tomorrow man."

He drives home, mind buzzing. It's Monday, which means he's on dinner because his dad's always late home on Monday's. He decides on something plain and simple which he can reheat later. He's definitely not a whiz in the kitchen, but he can follow a recipe and given the motivation he's pretty sure he could pull off a pretty impressive meal if he wanted. Once he's finished he covers the plates and cleans up before heading upstairs to his computer.

Fuck. This is probably the worst idea he's ever had, but he sends a message to Kurt through the fanfiction website and waits for a reply. He should really get his e-mail address, although he has his phone number. _Stupid_. He sends him a text message instead asking him to pop into the chat room when he has a chance and then waits. His mind is rushing over all the things that can go wrong, which is why he needs to do this online. It's like a filter for his brain.

_**HookedonHope has entered the chatroom**_

_FruitLover has entered the chatroom_

_**Hey. **_

_Hi. _

_Thanks for the rose. It's beautiful. Caused me to have an absolutely crazy insane lunch and Mercedes currently isn't talking to me because I'm keeping secrets from her, but I love it. _

_Thank you. _

_**I'm glad you like it. Every time I saw them I thought of you, because you know, plain boring one color roses are just not you…**_

_Plain boring -anything- is not me._

He grins, because Kurt has a point, and it's kind of what he likes about Kurt, that he doesn't shy away from anything.

_**Very true. **_

_**So, what are you doing Friday night?**_

_Guh. I'm meant to be going to a party at Rachel's._

_Why?_

_**Um. I've got a party as well.**_

_**I was wondering if you'd like to go with me.**_

_As your date?_

_**Well, yeah. **_

_**That what you do when your dating someone right? Go out on dates?**_

_Stop being facetious David. _

_I just thought that you didn't want to be out._

He ignores the little flare of doubt inside him that tells him Kurt doesn't want to be seen in public with him and squashes it forcefully.

_**I didn't want to be out at high school. By Friday night high school will be over.**_

_And you want to attend a party with me on your arm?_

He doubts very much that he'll be leading Kurt through a throng of teenagers like he's presenting a new debutante but yeah, he wouldn't be adverse to Kurt going with him.

_**Yeah?**_

_Really? That's a pretty big step. Just to out yourself to all your peers in one go? _

Worded like that it does sound like a stupid idea but he's kind of got his head stuck on it now.

**_Yes? Nick would be there. _**

_Far be it from me to hold you back if you want to step out of your five-inch steel-reinforced closet like this…_

_But don't you think you should maybe tell your mom before you come out at a party?_

Oh fuck. He has a point. A really _really _good point. Except he kind of has been avoiding thinking about her, other than talking to her on the phone a couple of times a week. He's pretty sure the last thing he'll be in the mood for is a party once he's told her, but Kurt's right. News filters out, and his mom would find out. Shit. Maybe Az as well. He doesn't want either of them to find out from someone else, even if it's been months since he spoke to Az. Oh god. Maybe he should just stay home. He's not ready for this.

_David?_

_**You're right.**_

_**I should tell my mom. **_

_No._

_You -could- tell her. You have a choice and don't beat yourself up because you don't want to. If you do, then, well, you know I'll be there for you. _

_And your dad. _

_**Thanks. I should probably go talk to him. Except he's not home yet. He's always late on a Monday.**_

_Huh. My dad's late tonight as well. It's normal according to Carole though._

_**What are you normally doing Mondays?**_

_Glee club practice. It's finished for the year now though, which is kind of sad._

_**Yeah, but I think I just figured out when our dad's meet up. I normally have hockey, and we used to get takeout, but I cook since it finished. **_

_**They obviously think they're really clever.**_

_Yeah. I think I might interrogate him when he gets home. So, only four days left of school, how does it feel?_

_**Amazing. I can't wait for this time next week. But it's kind of boring at the same time. I kind of want to know why your lunch break was so crazy…**_

Two weeks. Although I completely get the boring. Lunch was pretty much the only original thing _today after your lovely gift. It's started a round of guessing games. _

_Puck said HH stood for Happy Hummel, which made Blaine choke on a fry, and then Sam said HH couldn't be me, unless I was sending flowers to myself, which apparently isn't outside the realm of possibility. Then Puck threatened to hang Blaine upside down by one foot and tickle him until he gave up the name. I apparently would be much harder to crack._

_Anyway, they just started listing crazier and crazier things…_

_**Come on, share, I need a good laugh.**_

_Well, keep in mind that we're mixing Sam's nerdiness with Puck's… well, just Puck, and they came up with Horny Horndog. Happy Homo. Harry Houdini. Horatio Hornblower. Hugh Hefner. Happy Hour. His Highness… there were others, but I can't remember them all. But it continued. ALL AFTERNOON._

_**Horatio Hornblower is kind of cute.**_

_He's a real person?_

_**No. He's a fictional character. Sorry. I was thinking about the actor that plays him.**_

_Oh. I just thought it was a name Sam made up. Puck then added Happy Hornblower of course. It was funny for the first five minutes. Puck tried to make good on his threat and chased Blaine around the table. And we're the nation's future leaders apparently._

He laughs, because the idea of Puckerman leading anything is amusing, but he likes the flow of conversation between them. It feels good, warm, and it gives him the confidence to press enter on his next message.

_**So, I know it's kind of short notice but I was wondering if you wanted to come round and watch a movie on Wednesday night?**_

_I'd like that. Very much._

_**Cool. See you then.**_


	23. Chapter 22

**PART TEWENTYTWO**

Tuesday night he has dinner with his mom, she cooks his favorite. He feels kind of awkward, but less awkward than if Adrian were there as well. He's bowling, and maybe that's why his mom invited him over tonight. He's avoided her for in person for just under two weeks, just talking to her on the phone, which happens more often then he'd like. He has nothing to say to her, especially this close to the end of the school year. He has no training, no homework assignments and every time he mentions college she lets out a little upset sigh. He's kind of over it, her histrionics over him moving out, and then going to college so far away. She's been talking at him now for a solid fifteen minutes, and it's soothing in an odd way, hearing her talk about absolutely nothing of importance to him.

"I know boys reach an age when they want to bond with their father, I just miss you."

He knows she's waiting for him to say the words back, but he can't. He doesn't miss her at all, and he can't lie, even if it would probably make her smile.

"I love you mom." That isn't a lie at least. He does love her, imperfections and all.

"Oh honey, I love you too…"

He smiles, but his heart clenches a bit, because unlike the gruff words he hears from his father only occasionally, every time his mom says them he can't help but wonder whether she'd still say it if she knew. Moments like these he's bone achingly grateful for his dad, because while it might be embarrassingly awkward right now he knows his dad loves him, despite everything. He helps do the dishes and put everything away, listens as his mom talks about her group at church, the outfit she's got for his graduation ceremony and how his grandparents are coming for the weekend.

He's fine with that. His mom's parents are cool, and when he considers it, he's pretty sure he could tell them he's gay and they wouldn't care. His mom is somehow the straight-laced conservative one on her side of the family, which he used to find amusing but now he wishes she were a bit more like them. He leaves without promising to visit again soon, because he needs to stop making promises he never intends to keep. He'll be seeing her in the weekend when his grandparents are here, so that's all he says. When he pulls away from the curb it feels like a weight is lifted off his shoulders and he's pretty sure visiting a parent isn't meant to be this stressful.

He gets home to find his dad and Judy sitting on the sofa together reading, and it's a sharp contrast to the constant chatter filled environment he's just been in. Making a quick decision he goes to get his current book and goes back to the living room to join them in their companionable silence, returning his dad's quiet smile. He gets lost in the book, he always does, and when his phone vibrates in his pocket he pulls it out, shocked at the time, but feels wiggly warm in his stomach at the sight of Kurt's name.

_Hi. *smile* Hope you had a good day. Didn't want to bug you but I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow._

_**Sorry. Had dinner with my mom. Got home and just needed some quiet time so been reading. See you tomorrow. *smile***_

_Everything okay with your mom?_

_**Yeah. I didn't tell her or anything. I don't want to yet.**_

_That's fine. I get it. I have to go to bed. I'm really tired. Looking forward to tomorrow night though._

_**Sleep tight.**_

_You too._

"Is that Kurt?" His dad asks, and even though he's spoken quietly it sounds loud in the quiet of the room and he nods, smiling, and he can feel the warmth in his cheeks. "He still coming around tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"No reason. Just curious."

"Right…" he narrows his eyes, because his dad looks as innocent as a dog who has walked into a cat show. He can't do anything about it though, not without sounding completely paranoid. It's not like he doesn't have _grounds_ for being paranoid, but his dad has gone back to reading and he lets out his breath and goes back to reading.

**OAA**

"Come on, we're going out for dinner!"

"What? Dad! I _can't_. I'll be late for my… uh… to go around to, um," he glances at Finn, and damn it, his dad _knows_ he has a date with David tonight, and he can't call him out on it in front of Finn, because even if David only has two days left of school and still seems more than happy for Kurt to accompany him to a party on Friday night he's _not_ outing David to anyone else, unintentionally or not.

"Trust me, I will personally _guarantee_ that you will not be late for your date."

"Dude, you have a date tonight? I thought you were going to watch a movie at Blaine's place."

He glares at his dad, who suddenly seems to realize his mistake and he'd like to see him get out of _this_ one.

"Uh, it's still a date when it's just with a friend right?" He rolls his eyes at his dad's obviously lame attempt but Finn doesn't seem to care, which means he probably doesn't have money riding on the identity of whoever HH turns out to be, which he'd found out about today because Artie had let slip that they had a pool running.

"Well, I have a _real_ date with Rachel, so you guys have fun at dinner!"

"What!" Kurt exclaims, watching as Finn pats him on the back and heads for the door. "Dad! Look, why don't you and Carole go and enjoy a nice dinner just the two of you. I'll figure something out for myself here at home before heading over to David's…"

"No deal. Come on, move your butt. The sooner we leave the sooner you can get to David's…"

"This is _so_ unfair…"

"Tick tock Kurt!"

He stomps upstairs muttering under his breath about stupid double standards, and it really grates against his nerves sometimes, the differing treatment between himself and Finn and their whole dating histories. Not that his is very lengthy or varied, but you'd _think_ that would mean he'd get a little more trust and respect for his decisions. His outfit for tonight is already laid out, and he's gone for comfort. Not because David doesn't care what he wears, but because he's pretty sure he could wear _anything_ and David would still think he looks good, which is kind of gratifying.

The jeans he's picked out are dark-blue and have stretch in them, which gives them the benefit of looking painted on and he knows his ass looks _fantastic_ in them. He's coupling it with a green long-sleeved button-down shirt, which is pretty understated for him, but it's cut to fit him perfectly, and well, he knows David likes green. Plus he's not wearing anything underneath, which is something he never does, but he doesn't mind if there are less layers between them if they maybe end up making out again.

That idea perks him up a bit and he ties the laces on his shoes before going and quickly brushing his teeth. His mind is running through all the dishes he needs to avoid so he doesn't get garlic breath or mysterious ghost-spinach stuck on his teeth. He heads back down stairs and his dad and Carole are both waiting, dressed pretty casually, although Carole has reapplied her makeup. He slides into the back of the car and tries not to pout, because no doubt he'll get a talk about attitude adjustment before they even set off. He can't believe that his dad won't even let him take his own car in case they run late.

"So, where are we going?"

"You'll see…"

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window. They aren't heading in to the main part of town, but he's familiar with the direction they're heading and he pulls out his phone.

_Hey, are there any eating places near your place?_

_**No. Why? If you need dinner it's cool, Dad and Judy have made enough for a small army.**_

Of course they have, and he stares at the back of his dad's head, worst fears confirmed when his dad parks just outside David's house.

**OAA**

The doorbell rings and he can hear his dad calling out for him to get it. He doesn't know _why_, he's upstairs in his room and his dad is downstairs, just a few feet from the front door. When he yells again he pushes himself away from his desk, sighs, and heads for the front door, poking his head around the doorframe to take in the chaos in the kitchen. Except it isn't chaos anymore, instead his dad is pouring out two glasses of wine and has opened two beers.

"Are you guys expecting someone?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention? I have a couple of friends coming for dinner…"

"It must have slipped your mind…" _in your old age_ he adds silently, although the way Judy hides a grin he's pretty sure she can tell where his mind went just then.

It's too late to do or say anything, and at least the amount of food now makes sense, and he swings around to go and answer the door, rolling his eyes at the fact that his dad can't do it himself. He can bitch and moan all about his dad in the safety of his own mind and he pastes on a welcoming smile and opens the front door to be faced with Kurt. And Kurt's _dad_. And Mrs Hudson. Hummel? Finn's mom. Which means Mr Hummel probably isn't here to kill him. His eyes dart back to meet Kurt's and he's looking… well, _hot, _but also a little pissed off and maybe a lot pleased, he doesn't really know yet, but he grins at him anyway and Kurt smiles back.

"I believe we're the small army…"


	24. Chapter 23

**Author's note**: Please don't hate me? (Ducks and runs away from those already introduced to the Sherlock fandom via this fic and aren't happy about it). (Pfft, as if you can't be not-happy about liking Sherlock).

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><p><strong>PART TWENTYTHREE<strong>

He stares, because this is… This brings their usual awkward exchange to a whole new level. He was _just_ starting to feel that maybe he could hold a conversation with Kurt, in person, but with his dad there? With _both_ their dads there?

"From the stunned look on your face I'll assume you knew as much about this dinner date as I did…"

He shakes his head, but fortunately his body manages to move on autopilot and step aside to let them in, and when Mr Hummel and Finn's mom walk past him to the kitchen it dawns on him that they've obviously been here before. Something else that clearly happened in the weeks he spent at his mom's place and he wonders if he'll ever stop being surprised that his dad apparently has a social life, one that is currently better than his. He closes the door behind Kurt, and he'd offer to take a jacket, except Kurt isn't wearing one.

"I can't believe that we're on a triple date…" Kurt says, glancing toward the sound emanating from the kitchen and he shakes his head again, needs to start paying attention to what going on around him, what Kurt is saying.

"A triple… oh. Right. Well, it could be worse."

"How could this be worse David?" Fuck he loves the sound of his name on Kurt's lips, although he wouldn't mind it shortening to Dave anything is better than Karofsky, or other names Kurt has flung at him in the past and he needs to lighten his mood, right now.

"Well, we could be on a double date with just our dads…"

Kurt's eyes widen in horror and he can't stop the snort of laughter. Yeah, he's smooth alright, and of course his first date is going to be screwed up with his dad there.

"Oh god, can you imagine them, playing chaperone?"

"I think they'd probably enjoy the date more than us."

"Oh, I think they're enjoying themselves _plenty_ right now…" Kurt mutters, looking toward the kitchen where the sound of laughter can be heard and he sighs, looking toward the sound as well, because _yeah_, he's pretty sure his dad is enjoying himself immensely. He looks back to Kurt to find him watching him and he smiles, hesitantly.

"Hi."

"Hi."

He feels incredibly shy, even now, despite their numerous conversations, and their face-to-face meetings on Sunday. It's still new, tender and fragile, and it's kind of scary all at the same time, but he'd have it no other way. Then Kurt steps forward, quickly pressing his lips to his own before he can do or say anything, and he ducks his head, hiding another smile, because no, he definitely wouldn't want it any other way.

OAA

He walks into the kitchen and ignores his dad's pleased grin, he'd roll his eyes if he were at home. He greets Mr Karofsky, is told to call him Paul, and is introduced to Judy, who has short white hair with a friendly smile and is dressed in jeans and a blouse. She's one of those trendy looking older people and he wonders what she does for a living. No doubt he can ask over dinner, which has every hallmark of an awkward slow-motion disaster. He feels his phone vibrate and he pulls it out, grinning as he reads the message.

_**You look really good.**_

_Thanks. You too. *smile*_

"Are you two texting each other?" His dad asks, and he bites his lip, sending a quick look to David, who looks like he's doing the same thing, and he wonders if he's holding back hysterical laughter or a sarcastic comment, because he's definitely holding back several comments right now.

"I'll never understand kids; I mean they're standing right there…" Paul says, and okay, so he probably has a point after seeing him in the hallway on Sunday, but _still._

"Maybe they don't want you two nosey parkers knowing what they're saying to each other…" Judy states, and he smiles, catches David's quick approving look in her direction and sends a pointed look to his dad.

"Oh god, you two aren't sex texting are you?"

"What!" "No!" He and David exclaim at the same time, this is just _humiliating_ and he can feel himself blushing, can tell that David is too, and they're avoiding looking at each other, and he's pretty sure if he catches David's eye he's going to burst into laughter now.

"Anyway, it's called sexting," Carole informs his dad, and his eyes are wide and he'd laugh if he weren't so embarrassed right now. God, if _only_ sexting was all they'd done. Full on cybersex before they even knew who the other was… well, that would be a story to _not_ tell any kids they might have. He freezes, blinks, and he can't believe he just went there. Imagined himself with David in the future. _With kids_. He bites his lip and grins, because the idea is actually quite appealing, although he considers himself much too young to _seriously_ consider it.

"Worst first date _ever_," David says under his breath and he looks up to find the kitchen empty, just the two of them and he lets a little laugh escape, mostly out of nerves.

"No, it's not, you were right, it could be a lot worse, at least we aren't facing this alone…"

"Come on lovebirds! Some of us want to eat!"

"Oh fuck… do you think I could get off with justifiable homicide?"

David's eyes widen when he realizes what he's said and he reaches for his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Definitely. Or I offer you an alibi and help you hide the bodies…"

David laughs, and he likes the sound, a lot, and he lets David lead him into the dining room. Where there are two tables set up and David groans beside him.

"A kids table? Seriously?"

"You two don't look overly happy about having dinner together…"

"I thought you guys would like to have dinner with each other…"

"You two are dating now right?" His dad asks.

"Sure looked that way on Sunday…" Paul offers and he shuts his eyes, prays to a God he doesn't believe in that he doesn't resemble a tomato right now.

"Oh god…" David mutters, rubbing his face with his hands, and they were _so_ wrong, it could get worse. Without effort apparently.

"Look, it's not a kids table. We just thought you two could have a little romantic table off to the side…"

"It's not exactly romantic with you in the room dad, sorry," he states, and David is nodding slowly in what he assumes is agreement.

"Well it's the best we could manage in the circumstances," Carole states, her tone clearly trying to calm some ruffled feathers and that's when he realizes. David can't take him out to a restaurant, his dad knows that, though is clearly unaware of the whole Valentine's Day saga, but it's actually kind of sweet, that he wants to do this for his son. A bit weird that they're going to be in the same room having dinner, but he's quickly losing the feeling of embarrassment and starting to realize instead where David gets his romantic streak from.

"Just for the record you two are the weirdest pair of cupids _ever…_" Kurt says, looking between Paul and his own father. The simply both looked pleased, and he smiles at David, inclining his head toward the small table that has a white table cloth draped over it, and there are flowers and candles, and actually, if it weren't for the fact that there are four adults present it'd be kind of perfect.

OAA

Dinner isn't a complete disaster, and if he ignores the fact that it's his dad, and Kurt's dad, and his dining room, then he could kind of think that they're in a restaurant. His dad and Judy have gone all out, and the food tastes amazing, and he and Kurt have managed a few snippets of conversation, but each time they talk all conversation at the other table stops, so they'd just laughed and then avoided conversation for the time being, although they've listened to their dads plenty, which has been equal parts enlightening and horrifying and he's pretty sure it'll be a while before they exhaust _that_ topic of conversation.

Judy won't let them help clear the plates, and it feels weird to be waited on like this. Both tables are cleared, with Judy having set out more cutlery for him and Kurt and he wonders what's going on. She brings out two desserts, his is a chocolate brownie that smells just like melted chocolate and Kurt's, which looks like cheesecake. He looks to the larger table, and none of them are even sitting down, instead just standing and watching them. Weirdos, the lot of them Dave decides.

"So, we're going out," his dad declares.

"Wait, what?"

"Well, there's a movie we want to see, called Avengers, and I have to convince Burt that they're better than the Justice League, and it's had really good reviews…"

He blinks, because he had no idea his dad even knew about the Avengers, or that there was a movie, and now that he does know he kind of wishes he could go with him even though he's already seen it.

"The Avengers _are_ better than the Justice League though…" he says and the grin his dad gives him, accompanied by a little nod makes him feel validated in some strange way, like his dad is proud of him for liking a particular comic series over another.

"You guys are going out? All of you?" Kurt asks, and _oh_, at least one of them has realized the implications. _Holy shit_. He swallows and looks to his dad again who isn't meeting his eyes now. Fuck. They're being left alone. _Knowingly_ left alone, which makes the whole awkward dinner seem pretty pointless, regardless though he's not really sure he _wants_ to be left alone.

"Yep. We'll be back in a few hours to pick you up…"

"Oh… Okay. Sure," Kurt says, and he _looks_ calm, but he wonders if it's simple a veneer.

He wonders if their dads are trying reverse psychology and by leaving them alone they won't fool around, because he's pretty sure that's not going to work. The four of them leave, Carole and Judy chivying the men with rolled eyes and he bites his lip in amusement, wondering whose idea it was to actually have this dinner thing, because it kind of smacks of his dad interfering, but then leaving… maybe Burt Hummel? Or Carole? He looks across the table at Kurt, who is twirling a spoon around his fingers, smiling softly and looking _perfect. _He smiles back and picks up his own spoon.

"So, our dads argue over the Justice League and the Avengers…"

"I don't actually know the difference," Kurt states, and he stares. It's kind of nice to be able to look at him and for it to be normal, expected even. "Don't look at me like that David. One spandex outfit is the same as the next. What?"

"Seriously? You don't… you don't care about them."

"Well, no. Not really. Should I? They're fictional characters."

"So are John and Sherlock."

Kurt pauses with his spoon halfway to his mouth before lowering it back down to the dish, head turned to the side considering him.

"Okay, so put it in terms I can understand then…"

"Terms you can understand?"

"Pairings. Like JohnLock…"

He cracks up laughing at that, because it's the first reference to what has brought them together, and he feels light headed.

"Okay… you have DC, and I think a lot of people pair off Superman and Batman… they're both DC characters. Then you have Marvel comics, with Captain America and Iron Man."

"Who?"

"Tony Stark? Iron Man?"

As Kurt's continued blank look he shakes his head and goes back to eating his dessert, explaining the backstories of all the characters, describing what they each look like, and what they wear, for Kurt to recognize them and he's enjoying himself, relaxing, and he can't help but feel relieved that their easy conversation is actually translating into real life.


	25. Chapter 24

**Author's note**: I know some of you want hardcore smut, but taking into consideration the type of people Kurt and Dave are in this fic I can't go there (yet). (I'm not ruling out other, erm, things, but yeah…)

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><p><strong>PART TWENTY FOUR<strong>

They clear away the rest of the dishes, because it's still a bit awkward and it's something to do. He knows that making out with David isn't awkward, talking with him isn't awkward, it's the transition between the two which seem to be filled with blushes, embarrassed glances and, for David at least, a stall in the ability to make conversation. He's patient though. He now knows more of David's inner thought processes and that's got to help. And if all other forms of communication breakdown he's fairly confident he'll be able to get David to express himself through writing. Words can come later.

Some have to come right now though. Despite the opportunity they have right now, an empty house, the knowledge of exactly where their parental figures are and exactly how long they'll be gone he doesn't want that just to mean they discard their original plans for making out. Not that he doesn't _want_ to make out with David, but he'd seen the flare of panic when he'd realized they were being left alone. Despite his words on Sunday he knows if he pushed David for sex he'd get his way right now, but he doesn't want that.

What he wants is a David whose eyes sparkle at the idea of being left alone, for him to know that Kurt trusts him. Wants him. He doesn't want to jump to all out sex however. He and David have been together all of three days and he doesn't think he's ever going to be the type to rush into a sexual relationship. Online though, well, that's a different matter and well, he already feels more closely connected to David in the last few weeks than he did over months with Blaine, and he wonders if it's due to the nature of their communication. That they never held anything back because they thought they would never meet.

He glances around the now pristine kitchen and looks to David, who is picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, staring at it with an intensity that means he was probably just staring at him. He steps forward, wraps his fingers around David's wrist and tugs gently, shaking his head.

"You'll ruin it."

"It's old."

"You didn't even get dressed up?"

"I didn't exactly have any warning…"

He thrills a little inwardly at the unspoken words, that he _would_ have dressed up had he known Kurt was coming for dinner and he can't stop the slow smile spreading across his face, and he's standing in David Karofsky's kitchen, only inches between them, and he's holding his wrist, which isn't quite as romantic as holding hands, but David is plenty romantic when he can do it semi-anonymously, he just needs to build up David's confidence so he can do it publicly. No pressure though, he's learnt that much at least, he'll likely do more damage than good if he tries to push David toward something he's not ready for.

"So, you want to watch a movie?"

"Yeah, of course. What did you have picked out?"

"Well, I did think the second series of Sherlock… but now I'm leaning towards something to further your education… like Thor. Or Iron Man."

He lets go of David's wrist, smoothes his hand around his waist and leaning toward him, face angled up to kiss. He watches through lowered eyelashes as David studies him. He really wants David to do this, in the privacy of his own home, to initiate a kiss between them, or just reciprocate physical contact. Wants him to know that it's okay. He feels fingers trace along his jaw, a thumb caress his cheekbone and he leans into the hand so his head is being cupped gently. David is taller than him, and it's a bit strange leaning up to kiss instead of down, but he knows he'll get used to it quickly, and he'll have a handy shoulder to lean on while watching the TV. Then he feels warm breath, and the soft gentle press of lips. It's so soft it borders on ticklish, but he forces himself to not react. Either by laughing at the too-soft sensation or by kissing back forcefully.

Fortunately he doesn't need to do anything, because his lack of protest seems to be enough to make David press a bit firmer and he doesn't give an inch, lets their lips slide against each other, lets his hands meet behind David's back where he lets them rest against firm warm muscle. David tastes of chocolate. Dark, rich and slightly bitter and he wonders what he tastes like right now. He feels David's other hand come up to cradle the other side of his face like he's some precious parcel, and it's nice, but he's not going to break. Still, baby steps, and that thought makes him smile and pull back slightly and David's hands fall away immediately.

"Mmm… better than dessert."

David's eyes search his face and he doesn't stop smiling.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are Kurt?"

He flushes, suddenly embarrassed, fairly certain David hadn't meant to say the words aloud but an answer comes to him and he's _flirting_, in person.

"Maybe one day you can tell me how much…"

"I could write essays on it…" David replies, and he's flushing redder than Kurt's ever seen and he lets a little laugh escape, ducks his head and smiles into David's chest, tightening his arms in a tight hug. Their easy flirting banter _can_ be said out loud, even if they're both bordering on death due to embarrassment.

"I vote Sherlock… then if we want to talk I won't feel bad that we're missing something."

"Okay…"

He follows David through to the living room, watches as he flicks the TV on and puts the DVD in. He sits on the edge of the sofa and when David looks to him he shuffles sideways a bit, indication clear. He hopes. They sit in silence, side-by-side, barely touching as it starts and he kind of wants to let out a nervous laugh, wonders if he'd feel less nervous if there was a parent in the house. God. He's _useless_. They're both eighteen. Meant to be moving to New York to start college in a matter of months, he's meant to have everything sorted out, know how to deal with things like this.

He jumps when he feels the scrape of nail along the side of his hand and his eyes fly to where his hand is resting on the sofa, where David's hand is now resting beside it, one finger reached out to touch his hand. He grins and reaches for David's hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing slightly, getting a responding squeeze in reply, and he likes the ease of this silent communication. They sit and watch in silence, and he enjoys it all over again, even knowing the entire story line, it's like re-reading a favorite book. He glances at David occasionally, and his eyes are always forward, looking at the large screen, until he catches him looking.

"What?"

"You never answered all my questions you know."

"What question? When?" He frowns.

"Right at the beginning, when we first starting exchanging messages…" David murmurs, and he still seems a little embarrassed by that.

"Oh. You remember them all?"

"I may have reread them a couple of times now."

He grins, because he has too, and he's trying to think of which question he didn't answer. He lets go of David's hand, shuffles around and smirks a bit at the sharp intake of breath as he lies down on the sofa on his side, using David's thigh as a pillow and curling his legs around. He reaches for the hand that David had reached out with and moves so it rests along the top of his arm.

"Which question?"

"Uh… what?"

"Which question didn't I answer?"

"Oh. Uh. I mean, you don't have to tell me, I just wondered whether you didn't tell me on purpose, or it just slipped your mind or…"

"Which question David?"

"Um. What's your happiest memory?"

"I… oh. Yeah. I remember that. That's been bugging you huh?"

David shrugs, nodding reluctantly and he laughs gently. The episode has finished, credits flashing on the screen and he's surprised that ninety minutes have already slipped by.

"I have lots of happy memories, just naming one seemed kind of impossible."

"Oh. Okay. But… I'll reword it. When are you happiest?"

"Oh… well, that's easier. When I'm on stage performing. Singing. I don't even need to be on stage, just… performing for myself in my bedroom. What about you?"

"When I'm writing. Yeah. Definitely when I'm writing. Now feels pretty damn good though…"

The last sentence is said so quietly he's pretty sure David would deny having ever said it, and he just smiles again, snuggles into the warmth of David's leg and ignores the little squeak that he emits.

**OAA**

The bright light that flashes on makes him jump and cover his eyes, swearing. It's been ages since he's been woken up by lights flicking on and he blinks one-eyed as he tries to adjust to the bright glare. Surely his dad wouldn't be so cruel as to wake him up like this? He hears an amused chuckle, and another person groaning. _Kurt_. Oh fuck. They fell asleep. Not that they did anything incriminating, though his dad is _clearly_ looking for evidence the way he's not-so-subtly peering around the room. He didn't even offer Kurt so much as a coffee, and he'd just been so warm and comfortable… He glances down to where Kurt has his arm flung across his eyes and he can see crease marks on his cheek from where his face was resting against his jeans.

"Did you guys enjoy the movie?" He asks, and his voice is rough from sleep, and he shakes Kurt gently, trying to make him wake up and join him in this already embarrassing situation. He doesn't get why he needs to be the only one with their dad looking at them speculatively, although Burt Hummel is looking somewhat pleased, as if he's been proven right about something.

"He won't wake up to that. Try poking him in the ribs…"

"Uh…"

Burt seems to realize his reticence and leans over the back of the sofa, prodding Kurt roughly in the side and he hopes Kurt doesn't bruise easily, 'cause that looks like it hurts.

"I'm awake… I'm awake…" Kurt mutters, and he tries to ignore the way Kurt's head snuggles further into the juncture of his stomach and thigh.

"Yeah, sure you are buddy. Come on, we need to head home… And you need to let Dave go to bed."

That seems to jolt Kurt awake and he immediately misses the warmth when he moves away to sit up, blinking blearily in the light and rubbing his face. He looks adorable and he files the look away under images he never thought he'd get to see.

"Oh… what time is it?"

"After one."

"On a school night? Really dad? What kind of parent are you?"

"One that can have his arm twisted by his wife. Now come on, we got to scoot."

"Yeah, just… let me say goodbye to David…"

"Five minutes…"

"More than enough."

He watches gratefully as the four of them leave the room, isn't actually sure if they get all the way out before Kurt is kissing him, and he leans into it, no longer as surprised by the fact that he gets to kiss him, although still a little surprised, and he doesn't know if that surprise will ever go away. He hopes not, he'd be an idiot if he ever took this for granted.

"I really enjoyed myself. Sorry I fell asleep, I kind of thought we could talk more. And… do more of this…" Kurt says, kissing him again, slower this time, and he smiles into it, enjoys the warmth of Kurt's body pressing against him slightly. He lets his hand move to touch Kurt's leg, touching just enough to feel the roughness of the fabric beneath his fingertips.

"Five minutes is up!"

He jumps again at Burt's voice and takes in Kurt's annoyed bitch face, bites his lip in amusement that it's not aimed at him.

"I think your watch is broken."

"Yep, probably. Come on… time to go."

Kurt sighs and gives him another quick kiss.

"I'll talk to you later okay."

"Sure. Later."

He goes to bed grinning like an idiot.


	26. Chapter 25

**Author's note**: This chapter and the next were meant to be one part, but I had to split them up because they just got too long. Looking at 33 chapters all up. Unless I need to split more chapters up.

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><p><strong>PART TWENTY FIVE<strong>

"You look happy."

"Mmm. Probably because I am…" he replies distractedly, and he is quite happy right now, thinking about last night.

"Why? You expecting more flowers?" Mercedes asks, and while she may be talking to him again, it's with clear reluctance and she makes no effort to hide the fact that she's annoyed at being shut out. Puck and Artie have taken to randomly shouting out possible names, both starting with HH and others, in the hope that he'll either react, or simply get so annoyed he gives in and tells them. They haven't branched from names of students at McKinley though, so he knows he can safely ignore everything they say.

"Hudson! Hummel-Hudson!"

"Oh my god! It's _Finn_!"

"What?" Finn asks, turning toward them and away from Rachel. Artie repeats his crack-pot theory and he rolls his eyes as he listens to Finn protest that he hasn't been sending Kurt flowers. After three days of crazy guesses Hummel-Hudson is actually fairly normal and if it weren't for the fact it were _Finn_ he'd be worried they were getting close.

"It can't be me! He went on a date with him last night and I was at Rachel's!"

Apparently Finn was paying more attention last night then he gave him credit for and everyone seems to suddenly be more interested. This isn't going well. There's a clamor of questions, asking him if he really was on a date, and he needs to nip this in the bud. A small tidbit of information may be enough to whet their appetites and keep them distracted. At least for the rest of the week, because with the end of school in sight it's pretty obvious everyone is bored and focusing on making _his_ life difficult is apparently appealing.

"It's not Finn," he states, "It's not _anyone_ at this school, so give up and save your money…"

"They won't let me put money on a name…" Blaine opines, and Kurt's eyes flash to his face.

"Just whose names do you have in there?"

"Every guy in the glee club…"

"What? _Why?" _Kurt demands, because that has to be the most ridiculous things he's every heard.

"Well, we were just going to have Sam, and he then said Puck was just as likely to send you flowers as him, and Artie argued that to be fair they both needed to be in, and then they said to be completely fair all the boys needed to-"

"Have you considered it might be a girl? Like… Holly Holiday. And that's the reason I'm keeping it quiet is because not only is it a girl but it's a teacher?"

Everyone is staring at him, and he has to bite back a hysterical laugh, because if that sounded half as ridiculous as he thinks it did it's no wonder they're all looking at him as if he's lost the plot. He starts packing up his lunch tray, not that he has anywhere to go, but _away_ seems a pretty damn good option right now before he's flooded with even more questions.

"Okay, add her name to the pool…" Puck instructs, and Artie raises an eyebrow. "What? If Hummel's going to go straight for a chick, then Miss Holiday is a pretty sweet choice…"

"Oh god…" Kurt mutters, and Blaine is laughing so hard he has tears running down his face. "You are _not_ helping," Kurt complains, poking him in the shoulder.

"It's not though is it Kurt? A girl I mean?" Rachel asks, and he gives her a disbelieving look. Of all the people he'd expect to be able to comprehend his sexuality the most it would be her. Apparently not.

"_No_! It's not. But he's not out yet, and I respect that. As should all of you…" he states, glaring around at all of them. Blaine and his fit of giggles isn't helping him get the seriousness of his point across and Santana has stopped playing with Brittany's fingers to look up at him, eyes speculative and he tries to not react. He has no idea how Santana will react, she has mellowed since coming out and being with Brittany, but she's still Santana, and he has no idea if she has any feelings of loyalty toward David. Or any feelings at all for that matter.

"So he must go to Dalton, for you and Blaine to both know him," Sam states, and Kurt can't help but be slightly impressed at this display of logic and reasoning, but tries to not let anything show on his face. However he's fairly certain that if David went to Dalton he wouldn't be as afraid of coming out to his peers as he is. Although the fact that he still hasn't withdrawn the invitation to go to the party tomorrow night means he is nowhere near afraid as he used to be, but Kurt has to admit that he's a little, no, a _lot_ scared at the idea of going. Not that he's let fear stop him before, but he also has a healthy dose of self-preservation.

"Well, I'll leave you all pondering the mysteries of my life, seeing as your own are all so boring," he states, standing and straightening his bag strap on his shoulder. There are a couple of indignant looks but he ignores them and heads for the library, the last place they'll look for him this close to the end of the semester and pulls his phone out.

**OAA**

_I can kind of imagine Santana as Irene Adler._

He smiles as he considers the text, and he can actually imagine it as well, slightly scary but stunningly attractive gay woman with slight dominatrix tendencies. He grins and then looks up to find Nick peering over his shoulder, trying to read his text messages.

"I wouldn't do that man, you never know what you might see…" Dave says, turning his screen off and moving away from the table. Nick follows and scoffs.

"Pfft. Nothing can scare me. Isn't Santana your ex?"

"Yeah. But don't ask me to hook you up with her, you're… not her type."

"What, and you are? I mean, apart from the whole being gay thing…"

"That would be _exactly_ why we're not her type. She's…" he pauses. He knows Santana is out now, but it still feels weird to be openly discussing it. "She's a lesbian. With a girlfriend."

"Well, that's what they usually have right?"

"What?"

"Lesbians. They usually have girlfriends, unless they don't have one… why'd she date you?"

"Uh, long story, but short version, blackmail. Why are we talking about this?"

"I'm curious… and she must have friends right? Straight friends?"

He snorts, because he can just imagine Nick trying to ask Santana to hook him up with someone. And Santana using his balls as earrings, and he's torn between warning him, or letting it play out for amusements sake, because the chance of them actually meeting again are fairly slim. He's been aimlessly following Nick and when he gestures to the door to an empty class room he still has to tamp down the fear that he's being set up to be ambushed. The walls are bare and Jarvis, James and Al are sitting on the side bench, all peering out the window, and Jarvis is muttering about being able to see right down the girls' tops and he turns to look back at Nick, because he really doesn't get what he's doing here.

"Hey guys…"

"Hay man… why the whole cloak and dagger act?"

"Well, Dave's got something to tell you…"

"What?" Dave hisses, realizing probably too late that it is in fact an ambush.

"Look man, they won't care… and you want to come to the party right?"

"Not anymore!" Dave snaps, and fucking _hell_ he's pissed. He can't believe Nick thinks this is a good idea. They've talked about it, briefly, and he'd said he wouldn't risk it, not with just Nick knowing. This is obviously his solution. Which is idiotic.

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing!" He snaps and Nick rolls his eyes.

"Dave is worried you won't like him any more if he tells you…"

The three of them watch him and Nick as if they collectively think they're both crazy, and he can't blame them really, because he feels a little insane, and the best thing he can do right now is remove himself.

"I'm leaving."

"Dude, you have one day of school left. One day. Just one," Nick says, hand pressed against his chest, not hard, but the shock of physical contact makes him stop and he stares down at Nick's hand until he removes it with a muttered '_sorry'_.

"Fine," he murmurs, turning on his heel to face the other three and takes a deep breath. He can do this. He can do this. Fuck. He can't do this.

"Dave's gay."

His head whips around to Nick who just shrugs and he has to fight the urge to just punch him, because it's _not_ his to share. Jarvis, James and Al don't say anything, looking at him, then each other.

"You're… serious?" James asks, as if he's waiting for a punch line.

"Yep," Nick states, and he steps past him to sit on one of the desks and he lets out a defeated sigh and nods. He has no choice now, and he's going to make Nick _pay_. Later though.

"How long have you known?"

"Well, uh –" he starts, because well, it doesn't really have a _date_ as such…

"Not you, _Nick_," Jarvis interrupts and he clicks his jaw shut, looks to Nick.

"Since February. Valentine's Day."

"You've known since February and managed to keep this a secret?"

"That's kind of more shocking than him being gay…"

He's being talked over, but he doesn't care.

"How did you figure it out?"

"He was having dinner with his boyfriend," Nick supplies.

"I was not!" Dave interjects.

"Well, that doesn't exactly make you Sherlock there Nick, not if he was out on a date with another guy."

"And Dave, man, if you're trying to stay in the closet having dinner with another guy is not the way to go about it…"

His head is spinning at the flow of conversation between them, the sheer overwhelming feeling of relief that he's not being beaten or hassled, in fact is actually sort of being teased already.

"It wasn't a date… he wasn't my boyfriend."

"Wasn't. Is now," Nick supplies, and he's wearing a shit-eating grin like Dave getting a boyfriend has somehow been his lifework and he's completely responsible.

"Seriously, I can't get over the fact that Nick knew and managed to not tell anyone…"

Nick gives Jarvis the finger and he lets out a nervous chuckle.

"So why tell us now? You planning on walking across the stage on Monday in rainbow colored robes?"

"Uh, no…"

"He wants to come to the party, but he wants to bring his boy…"

"And?"

He blinks, because while he _likes _their easy acceptance he can't get over their naivety. He hesitantly explains what he perceives to be the problems, and of all of them James is the only one who takes it seriously, sees even more potential problems, but also points out that there're four people that know now, and together they can deal with any physical shit that comes up. He's still not convinced it's a good idea, but Nick seems to have his heart set on him attending. Jarvis starts listing the number of other seniors he knows are members of the GSA and he cringes, because he hadn't even known there was one in this school. It actually sounds like there's going to be a wide variety of people at the party, and Jarvis is hosting, which makes him feel a little better about it, but he still doesn't know what Kurt will think.

"Look. I'll come regardless. If Kurt wants to come then… it'll end up being a coming out party. It'll be up to him though. And… well. If I come alone can you guys keep this on the low? I still haven't even told my mom yet."

Nick lets out a choked '_what?' _and the others all look suitably taken aback and he shrugs helplessly, because he still doesn't want to tell her, but it feels like he's on an out-of-control train going downhill, getting faster and faster and he just knows there's going to be a train wreck at some point and he has no idea how bad the damage is going to be.


	27. Chapter 26

**Author's note**: This starts off exactly where the last chapter ended, so it's still Thursday afternoon.

Thanks to Rinn (cornflakesareglutenfree) for providing Puck's last line in here. I laughed so hard I just had to use it.

* * *

><p><strong>PART TWENTYSIX<strong>

His phone vibrates and he smiles, already predicting a text from Kurt and sighs with disappointment when it's just a message from his dad.

SPECIAL VISITOR AT HOME FOR YOU.

He doubts very much that his dad would call Kurt a special visitor, and his constant use of caps lock is something he's tried to get his dad to stop without success. He even writes in all capitals, probably so other people can actually read his scribbled hand writing.

"Special visitor huh? Who would that be?" Nick asks.

"Would you _stop_ reading my text messages please?"

"Where would the fun be in that?"

He wonders if Kurt could start sending him filthy texts just to teach Nick a lesson but sighs, resigned to having a friend that has no personal boundaries and a complete inability to ask for something like that from Kurt, because he's pretty sure both of them would die from either embarrassment or hysterical laughter first.

"It's probably my sister. My dad mentioned about her possibly coming to see my graduation, but…" he stops, and it's not like he and Sarah are close, but she's bailed on family events before, so he's not going to hold his breath expecting to see her unless she's actually there in person.

"Is she hot?"

"Dude, she's a female version of me."

"Huh."

Nick is staring at him, turning his head from side to side.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to imagine what you'd look like with boobs."

"Dude! Gross! Also, I'm so not letting you near my sister. _Ever_."

Nick continues to look at him appraisingly and he glares back with a muttered _'stop it!'_ before getting in his car and driving away. He pulls up outside the house and there's a rental car sitting in his usual spot. Not his grandparents then, because they don't live far enough away to warrant not using their own car. The front door flies open and he can't stop the grin, although it's been almost eighteen months since he saw her last, and she's changed a bit.

He hadn't been lying when he'd said to Nick that she was pretty much a female version of him. She is in fact taller, has the same build but has obviously either been working out or dieting, because she's slimmed down but definitely not what he'd describe as slim. Statuesque. Or Amazonian. Either way, she stands at the entryway to the house, hands on her hips, giving him the same look he recognizes from his childhood. The look that tells him that either she's just buried all his legos in the back garden, or is about to tell him about Santa not being real. She looks good. Happy. He gets out of his car and waves.

"Hey!"

"Hey… when did you arrive?"

"About an hour ago. Had to go and get a key off dad."

"Cool. Um. Not that it's not great to see you, but why are you here so early? Graduations not till Monday…" he says, stepping past her into the house.

"I figured we could hang out over the weekend, get to know each other again a bit…"

"Uh…"

"What? You have other plans?" Sarah asks, looking indignant and well, even if he didn't have Kurt, and the party, and graduation, and his grandparents he has three chapters he needs to write otherwise he's going to get behind, although with tomorrow being his last day of school he'll have plenty of spare time from next week but… well, the next few days are kind of busy.

"Uh –"

"Some little girlfriend that sucks away all your time? Among other things?"

"Uh –" He flushes, because the innuendo is clear.

"Well, I'm only here for the weekend, so she can take a backseat. What's her name?"

He stares, heart suddenly racing, and if he knew anyone wouldn't give a fuck it would be Sarah. He's never said it out loud though. In fact, he's still not actually told anyone _himself_, it's always people assuming, or guessing, or already knowing… or blurting it out to other people, _thanks for that Nick_… He takes a deep breath and lets the words flow out.

"His name's Kurt. And he never takes the backseat for anything."

She stares at him and it's quiet. So quiet he can hear the pounding of his heart in his ears and he really wishes she'd say something. Anything. Preferably something _nice_, but he'd go with anything right now just to break the heavy silence.

"Fuck. You're shitting me."

"No… I'm gay."

"Oh my god… you're gay?"

"Yeah."

"And you have a boyfriend?"

He nods and ducks his head to hide the small smile that the idea of Kurt being his boyfriend elicits, because it still doesn't seem real.

"Huh. This must be the big news dad wanted to tell me…"

"Uh, no… probably not. I mean, this is my big news I suppose. Dad has his own big news."

"You know what it is?"

"Yeah."

"Mom and dad aren't getting back together are they?"

"_What_? Hell no…"

"Thank fuck for that. Now. Tell me about him. What was his name again? When can I meet him?"

"Wait, if I had a girlfriend you weren't interested but now that I have a boyfriend you're all keen to meet him?"

"I hate most other girls. They annoy me. Do you have a picture? Is he cute?"

"_Sarah_…"

"_What_? You're getting all grown up and stuff. It's kind of endearing. Oh, wait, is he ugly?"

"No! God this has been a weird day…"

"Well come on, you know you can't keep a secret from me…"

"Pfft. When I was a kid…"

"You're still a kid Dave…"

He shrugs noncommittally, because yeah, he might be classed a kid in the years he's lived, but with what he's lived and experienced and had to deal with already he sometimes feels old. And he's been keeping a pretty fucking big secret for the last few years. He feels her arms wrap around him and stiffens for a split-second before relaxing and hugging her back.

"So, what did mom say? She still talking to you?"

"I haven't told her. Actually, you're the first person I've told. Like, told told. Properly I mean."

"What, did you tell dad with sign language?"

"Uh, he guessed? Asked? I mean… yeah, he asked and I didn't deny it."

"Dad thought you were gay? _Really_?" She seems surprised and he has to agree, because while his dad is pretty awesome, he wouldn't give him any awards for observation skills.

"Yeah, but there was extenuating circumstances…"

"What, did he find your porn?"

"No! _Sarah_…"

"_David_… so you didn't tell dad. You must have at least told your boyfriend."

"Uh, not exactly…"

"What?"

"I kissed him…"

"Oh. The direct approach. I approve."

He shakes his head, because _no_, this really isn't something he wants to rehash, but he can't avoid Kurt for the next four days, and Sarah needs to know things so she doesn't put her giant sized feet in her equally giant sized mouth one after the other. He starts at the beginning. Freshman year, moves through sophomore, the bullying, the kiss, everything bad he's ever done, to Kurt, to others. He talks about prom and then transferring. She listens quietly, making appropriate sounds and nodding. He skips over the whole fanfiction aspect, simply saying they connected online and then realized who they were talking to just on Sunday.

"And he wants to go out with you? Despite everything?" He nods, and okay, he's kind of glossed over the fact that's he's apologized a lot, sent Kurt gifts around Valentine's just for the purpose of making him feel special and that they've long made the peace. He supposes hearing it all in a rush makes it feel a lot more raw than the reality of over a year and a half ago. "Huh. He must really like you."

"Apparently."

"You could have told me you know…"

"I… yeah. You weren't here…"

She hugs him again, mumbling '_sorry'_ into his hair and he shrugs. It's not her fault, and he more than understands the urge to leave Lima behind.

"So, you're kind of out then?"

"Uh… yeah. Maybe more out tomorrow night."

"Why?"

He explains about the party, explains his reservations about going, talks about Kurt, and she repeats his name like a mantra, which is understandable because she's terrible with names. He gives in to her plea of a picture and all he has is last year's year book, which she peers at speculatively, tapping Kurt's face a couple of times and repeating his full name to herself.

**OAA**

He's made his excuses to Rachel, and she'd been a bit upset, but he'd pointed out they had another week of school, and several more parties to attend. And all summer. She'd conceded, reluctantly, trying to guilt him into sharing his date's name but he'd not given in. He's not sure how they'll all react, not that he cares. Much. But he'd rather not have them all screaming in his face. Blaine's advice is what he's sticking with for the time being, and is what he'll use as his first argument. If he's happy dating David, then it's no one else's business.

He'd talked with him last night, and he'd listened as David told him about being outed to three other guys on the football team by Nick, with no consequences, and he's _so_ glad, not to mention relieved, although he's a little pissed off with Nick on David's behalf. And now David has finished school for the year and wants to take him to a party. And he wants to go, despite the nervous butterflies riding a rollercoaster in his stomach. He's entering an entirely new social circle. He'll know no one but David, and that adds a level of anxiety he's not experienced before.

He's decided to approach it as a performance, which brings him to deciding on an outfit. He can't decide between something understated, something more _him_, or something in the middle. He doesn't know how David's friends will react to him, and meeting them en masse is probably not ideal, but he really doesn't want to make what is potentially a volatile situation any worse simply by being himself, and he can't wait for the day when he doesn't even have to consider things like this. He also doesn't want to embarrass David, not because he'd be ashamed, but he's so _shy_ compared to him and he doesn't want to make what is a massive positive step forward into a negative experience.

He settles on something similar to what he wore on Wednesday, except he pairs it with his knee-high lace-up boots, a black button-down shirt with fine silver stitching which is suitably dressy, and his fine silver mesh scarf. He stands in front of the mirror, wrapping the scarf and then removing it before putting it back on again. The plan is for them to be early, so there is no grand entrance and potential awkwardness, although he fully expects there to be _some_. David is picking him up, although he'd been more than happy to go and pick him up he'd insisted, and Kurt had conceded, but he's not used to not having his own transport.

The doorbell rings and he gives himself a final once over in the mirror and straightens his shoulders and makes sure he has everything he needs, which isn't a lot. He takes the steps rapidly, because he doesn't want to make them late, although he can hear his dad already talking and _that_ could easily make them late. He rounds the corner to the door and grins, taking in David's attire, which is also slightly dressier than usual with dark jeans and t-shirt with a long-sleeved button-down shirt on as well, sleeves rolled up over his forearms, and his whole body prickles with sudden awareness. He'd never known that he had a thing for arms before, but now he knows he does, and his reaction in the bookstore last weekend wasn't an anomaly. He likes David's arms.

"Hi."

"Hi…"

His dad looks between them and then folds his arms. He's about to get the talk, and he feels like pointing out that he broke every single one of his self-imposed rules on Wednesday night but decides to keep his mouth shut. He does want to go out sometimes soon.

"Have fun. Be safe…" his dad coughs. Pauses and looks at the ceiling. "Don't drink and drive. Call me if you need something okay? Anything."

"Thanks dad. I'll see you later."

"What time should I expect you home?"

He stops, because he'd kind of assumed his prearranged curfew of midnight would be in place and he knows he's probably gaping but he can't help it. This is what it must feel like, to suddenly have more options, to be trusted to make the right one. Responsible enough.

"I'll be home by midnight. But I'll text you if I'm going to be late. Okay?"

His dad nods, looks between the two of them again and then beckons toward the door.

"I'll see you later."

The door closes behind them an he steps towards David's car when he feels a hand on his arm and he turns, smiling, wondering if he'll get a hello kiss, which despite Wednesday night, he tries to not do in front of his dad for his sanity. David doesn't look like he's angling for a kiss though, instead looks worried and he holds back a little sigh.

"David, it's just a party. I don't have to come –"

"Kurt…it's not you I'm worried about. At all. It's just, my sister is in the car, and she's… combative."

"Combative? You mean defensive?"

"Yeah. I just don't want her to insult you, but it's probably inevitable."

"Oh, so it runs in the family then?" Kurt asks, and he hopes it's suitably teasing and not too soon or too touchy a subject but he sees the corner of David's mouth lift upwards.

"Yeah, definitely a family trait. Genetic."

He doesn't miss the way David's eyes continue to flick down to his lips and he licks them experimentally and his breath catches and hazel eyes meet his.

"You did that on purpose."

"Yeah. You can kiss me you know…"

"I know, it's just that my sister is watching us…"

"Oh. Is she… Is she coming to the party?"

"Yeah. She used it as an excuse to get out of having dinner with our mom so… here she is."

"Oh. A third wheel. How delightful."

"Fuck, don't tell her that. I'm almost tempted to think dad convinced her to come along…"

"I'd believe it. Come on…"

He links his fingers through David's and settles himself in the back of the car after insisting David sit upfront with his sister. His sister who seems perfectly friendly, so he's not sure if David is being paranoid and she's not as bad as he imagines, or whether she's really good at hiding it in front of strangers. David gives her directions and glances back at him occasionally. He can't help the nervous movement of his leg, but at least there isn't awkward conversation yet. He answers Sarah's questions about his plans for college and she seems amused that he's going to New York, reaching out to poke David in the leg and he grins when David mumbles back telling her to shut up. She pulls up outside a large sized house on the outskirts of town.

"This it?"

"I guess so. Never been here before. Oh… there's Nick."

He recognizes him from Valentines, which is kind of nice knowing they won't all be strange faces, but he doesn't have much more time to ponder before the three of them getting out and Nick is jogging to greet them. David gets a shoulder slap and a wide grin and then he's being given a quick up-down look, and he feels like he's being assessed for suitability. Then Nick shoves his hand to him for him to shake and it's hard not to automatically like a guy who has been so easily accepting of David, not outed him and from all accounts, been pretty supportive. Except for the whole outing him yesterday to three others but that seems to have worked out.

"Hey man, nice to meet you properly. Kurt right?" He nods and shakes, and Nick is taller and bigger than David, so knowing he's kind of on their side is heartening. Not that there should be sides, but there might be.

"Uh, Nick, this is my sister Sarah. Sarah, this is my friend Nick."

He's familiar with guys who go mute when confronted with female beauty, mainly because Finn is one of them, and the sudden slackening of the jaw is a dead giveaway but he reaches to shake her hand anyway, which he has to admire, because it's kind of old-fashioned

"You guys are actually related?"

"Hey!" Dave says, sounding insulted and he hides a grin. Sarah is _tall_. He hadn't been able to tell with her in the car, but she's actually taller than David, which he hadn't expected. Not as tall as Nick though, and he probably doesn't see many girls that he probably doesn't have to bend to kiss. But there's no mistaking that Sarah is David's sister, the family resemblance is strong, but she has a finer bone structure and long hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail.

"Dude, she's way better looking than just a female you. I mean… look at her…"

"Oh, I think I like you…" Sarah says, turning to grin back at David.

"Oh god…" David mutters and he can't help grinning a little and reaching for his hand.

"Are you staying?" Nick asks and it's clear that the question is aimed at Sarah.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world…"

"Come on inside. I'll introduce you to Jarvis and the others…"

**OAA**

It's going surprisingly smoothly, and he starts to relax. Jarvis' parents are still there, which he hadn't realized would be happening, and it's helped him relax considerably. Mainly because when Jarvis had introduced them he'd simply said '_this is David and his boyfriend Kurt'_ and then his mom had given Jarvis a hug and told him she was proud of him while his dad had offered Dave and Kurt a beer. Which they'd both declined. Not that he's avoiding drinking, because he does drink occasionally. And Sarah is driving, so Burt Hummel's advice hadn't even been needed, but he's still not prepared to let his guard down completely. Kurt seems to have hit it off with James, and it's kind of weird seeing Kurt sandwiched between James and Jarvis when he gets back from getting them drinks, almost like they're giving him a guard of honor, and he appreciates it.

Jarvis gets up and lets him have his seat which he takes gratefully. Sarah is standing against a wall, eyes sweeping the room and Nick is busy trying to flirt with her. Or talk with her. He can't tell from where he's sitting, but either way, Sarah looks amused and he wonders if she has a boyfriend. More people have arrived, and so far none have raised an eyebrow, although he's seen a few people look toward Kurt with puzzled frowns, but he knows it'll have more to do with the fact that Kurt doesn't go to their school and they don't recognize him than the idea that he's gay. He hopes. He lets James introduce both him and Kurt to his girlfriend, who arrives with a whole bunch of other girls, some of who recognize Kurt for some reason and he listens carefully. _Cheerleading_. Right.

"Dude. He was a cheerleader?" James asks, Kurt laughs softly but is drawn into a conversation about his ability to sing and perform simultaneously.

"Uh… yeah. For a little bit…"

"He helped the Cheerios win their sixth national championship," James' girlfriend provides and David already knows that but James looks suitably impressed, and he wonders what he'd say if he told him about Kurt's time as kicker on the football team. Instead he focuses back on the conversation.

"So, who are you here with?"

"I'm here with David," Kurt answers and he feels like his entire life freeze for a moment, savoring the feeling of Kurt saying that, before resuming its natural pace. He watches as several of the girls exchange looks, but no one says anything nasty. Not out loud anyway.

"Oh. Huh. David. Well, you certainly kept _that_ a secret…"

He flushes, because it's not like he's been lying, but it _feels_ like he has been and he shrugs, relaxes a bit when he feels Kurt lean into him slightly, silently offering support if he wants it. Kurt smiles and brushes it away, saying they've only been going out for a week and that seems to appease some of them at least, although he sees a couple slip away and knows that it's going to spread now, if it hasn't already, but he feels pretty okay with everything so far.

They've had a barbecue for dinner and things progress normally, surprise seems to be the main reaction, as Nick predicted, although he does hear muttered grumbling occasionally but ignores it. If Kurt can survive years of direct in-his-face name calling he can survive one night of passive aggressive homophobic grumbling. If Kurt hears any of it he doesn't show it, although he's pretty sure Kurt wouldn't react right now if someone tortured him with hot pokers and he admires his strength all over again.

He hears raised voices before the crash as someone hits the floor and he turns, looking for the source of noise and wondering what's caused it and then he spots Jarvis standing beside his sister and Nick. They're all peering at someone on the ground and his stomach sinks.

"Oh my…" Kurt says quietly beside him, as they both step closer to see Mitchell lying on the floor on his back, looking completely unharmed except for the dazed look.

"Did you want to repeat that?" Jarvis demands, and he feels Kurt stiffen slightly beside him and he'd shield Kurt with his body if he didn't think Kurt would verbally strip him apart for it. "Yeah. Didn't think so. I think you should leave."

The entire room has gone quiet and Mitchell stands, slowly, and then staggers before grabbing the wall. He's not optimistic enough to think that this doesn't involve him in some way but he keeps quiet, grateful that the music continues playing. Sarah whispers something to Nick who disappears and Mitchell pulls his phone from his pocket and heads for the front door, not looking at anyone. Talk slowly starts up, and of course it's all speculative and several people rush over to Jarvis to get the gossip, so he doesn't even have to ask, just listen.

"Dude. What happened?"

"He was talking a bunch of shit. I disagreed and asked him to leave…"

"So you punched him?"

"Oh no, _she_ did that…"

And of _course_ it's Sarah and he's not sure whether to be upset or happy that she apparently feels the need to step in, and when Nick comes back with some ice wrapped in a tea towel he hopes she hasn't hurt her hand too badly. He lets Nick fuss over her though, because she seems amused by it where he knows he'd likely just annoy her but he asks her silently if she's okay and gets a wink in return. Jarvis' parents come in and look around, asking what's going on and everyone suddenly starts talking and looking busy which only causes both parents to roll their eyes while Jarvis fills them in.

He feels Kurt's arms circle his waist as he hears the names Mitchell was bandying about, how he apparently needed to be taught a lesson for thinking that he had a right to be in the same locker room as them and that was when Sarah had punched him, which had just been at the point when Nick had apparently introduced her as his sister. It sounds completely insane and he lets Kurt drag him away slightly.

"So I think I should go and see Avengers again. I think I'd understand a lot more of what was going on this time…" Kurt says, and he blinks. It's such a non-sequitur that it forces his mind to shift away and he looks at him, repeating the words in his head.

"You've actually seen Avengers?"

"Yeah, that night at the movie theatre remember? A couple of weeks ago? We could go again. Together."

**OAA**

He feels his phone vibrate and ignores it. There's a bit too much going on right now to be paying attention to text messages, and anyway, the only person he really wants to spend time with right now is beside him. And he needs to distract David from the idiocy of people in general. He's used to it, has a hard shell which is part of his necessary armor, but he'd relaxed, and actually enjoyed himself. He continues to talk about the potential of going out on a date tomorrow night, and he can tell David is torn between paying attention to the current situation, or paying attention to him.

Nick is apparently a genius and is far more knowledgeable of his friends than David is. And he knows David really hasn't socialized with his peers much, but Nick chose James, Jarvis and Al for a reason. Reasons he knows David won't be aware of. Jarvis' aunt is a lesbian. James has two moms who are good friends with Rachel Berry's dads, although he admits to not being able to stand Rachel, and Al is the president of the GSA. Completely straight, but his sister had set it up four years earlier and made sure he'd joined it and kept it going.

He tells David some of it, and his suspicion that David didn't even know about the GSA are all confirmed when he looks toward Al and asks _'really?'_ Al is busy kissing someone, who Kurt assumes is his girlfriend, and the party is easing back into where it was twenty minutes ago, thankfully. No one else is going to say anything, not if Sarah's going to go around punching anyone that does. And while he abhors violence he is enjoying not being the centre of attention, that it's David's sexuality that is making everyone talk, it's a nice novelty. His phone vibrates again. And again.

He sighs, wondering if it's maybe his dad just checking in and he pulls it out. _Nineteen_ text message from Blaine. That's weird. They don't text that much anymore. Then the phone starts ringing in his hand and he looks at David before answering it, frowning slightly. Blaine is meant to be at Rachel's party with Luke, not ringing him.

"Blaine? Is everything alright?"

"Kurt! God!" There's the sound of struggle. Blaine's high pitched giggle. "I'm sorry! Augh! Stop it! I couldn't…" He can hear the others in the background, and they sound excited. "They know –" Then Puck's voice can be heard. "_Grab his phone! He's warning him!_" And then the line goes dead. Oh god, New Directions is… crazy. Likely coming to gate crash his date. Maybe.

"We have to get out of here…" he states, but David seems to think he's joking.

"What? Why?"

"Because the entire glee club is on their way here."

"I… really?"

David doesn't seem at all freaked out by the idea and he lets that calm him a bit. If David isn't worried then he shouldn't either.

"Yes. Are you… okay with them knowing?"

"Yeah. I mean, I just came out to my entire senior class, so having people at my old school know? Are you okay with them knowing?"

He pauses in his automatic answer of _of course_ and thinks. It's going to take some explaining, and no doubt some arguments, but the sooner it's out of the way the better, and if he can deal with them en masse then it will save time.

"They can be overly dramatic. And crazy… and wonderfully protective like a bunch of slightly insane family… but I am more than okay with them knowing if you are."

"Okay then. And I already knew about the crazy and overly dramatic part…" He says it with a completely serious face, but he's fairly certain David might be teasing him, but he's not completely positive so lets it slide. For now.

He feels tense, waiting for them to burst through the door, but nothing happens, and he slowly relaxes, lets himself go with David to get some more to drink and talk to Sarah and Nick. Nick who is looking at Sarah even more adoringly if it's even possible and he teases David about it, his sister being a cradle snatcher. They get drawn into separate conversations, but remain together, their hands just touching, and he hopes David agrees to the date tomorrow night because he'd really like some alone time with him. He's busy thinking about that, and the fact that David hasn't actually updated a chapter tonight when Jarvis comes and taps him on the shoulder.

"Uh, Kurt, there're some people at the door for you…"

"Well, at least they knocked," Kurt mutters.

"Are they friends? I don't mind if they come in."

"I bailed on their party to come here. They're probably a little pissed off at me."

"Yeah. I was asked if I was a hunky hulk… I just figured I better come and get you."

David is laughing beside him and he shakes his head.

"You know this is just about to get ten times crazier right?"

"Bring it, this already feels like the weirdest and best night of my life…"

He goes to the front door, and David follows him, along with Sarah, Nick and Jarvis, like he needs some form of protection from them. Not likely, if anything it's the other way around. He pulls open the door an pastes on his best pissed off face, it must look suitably terrifying because no one says anything and Blaine is shoved to the front like a sacrificial lamb.

"Kurt! I'm so sorry, but Puck just picked me up and tickled me until I –"

"It's fine Blaine. Really. How did you guys find me though?"

"We just drove around looking for a large collection of cars and went door knocking…" Sam supplies, and he and Puck and peering past him, looking for HH no doubt.

"Oh my god… you guys are insane."

"Well, you dumped us for the night. For some mysterious guy you won't tell us about, which, for the record, is incredibly suspicious," Mercedes states.

"Fine. Well, you want to meet him. So…" He reaches his hand out for David, squeezes and pulls him into light above the front stoop. "I believe you all know David."

There's shocked silence, and Mercedes and Rachel's eyes have both gone wide with combined worry and shock. He sighs, he's going to spend the rest of the night explaining, he knows it, but hopefully he can get it all done and out of the way and then get back to his date with David.

"_Karofsky_? So, HH stands for Hung like a Horse then?"

"PUCK!" He can't help but almost shriek the name and he covers his face, rubs his hairline with irritation.

"What? Locker room, dude. And just to be clear, even Trouty Mouth would have issues with HH there. So be careful and don't be afraid to call 911 if anything gets stuck."

"Oh god…" David mutters, although he notes he's not denying it and Sarah punches David on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner. Jarvis and Nick are snickering and he's not sure how people manage to have _normal_ relationships, ones without their friends and fathers being overly involved, but he wishes he could be one of them.


	28. Chapter 27

**Author's note**: Glad you all liked the ending of the last chapter as much as I did. One day Rinn and I will combine forces. And I hope you're all stocked up on fluff and happy feelings. *wibbles*

**PART TWENTYSEVEN**

When he wakes up he doesn't feel rested at all. Futile arguing last night with Mercedes and Rachel had _not_ been how he had envisaged his second date with David ending, and he'd been furious with them. Is _still_ furious with them. Neither of them were willing to give in to the idea that he might have changed, certain he'd somehow been tricked into it. The guys had been surprisingly okay with it. Well, after Jarvis, Nick and James had stood like a solid wall behind him while he told them he could date whoever he wanted they'd acquiesced and then done the weird fist bumping ritual guys do.

Overall though it had turned out to be an… interesting night. Santana had won the pool, having put in a blind enveloped bet, which he's pretty sure is cheating, but he can't bring himself to care about that right now. Her, Brittany and Quinn hadn't seemed to care at all who he was dating, and Blaine had just given him a hug, apologized again for breaking under pressure and then patted David on the arm and told him it was good to see him. That had definitely raised some eyebrows and had only added to Rachel and Mercedes impotent rage. He's convinced that they're more annoyed at being left out of the loop than the fact that he's dating David, but they can't whine about not being included without sounding pathetic, so picking on David all night had seemed to be their course of action.

He'd been insulted on David's behalf more than once, even though David had ignored most of it, which tells him that David is not only a much calmer person now, he's also far less likely to be riled up than he is, because he'd yelled at them. Several times. And now he wants to check on David, make sure there's no irreparable damage to their relationship before it's even started out. He sighs and pulls his pillow over his face. He's being a little melodramatic. Between the guys making David embarrassed, Santana congratulating both of them, Blaine and Luke suggesting they go on a double date and Mercedes and Rachel being on the attack the entire evening David had seemed more amused last night than anything. Well, once the embarrassment had worn off, they'd avoided _that_ subject, but he admits he's curious.

It's still reasonably early. His own body is swaying between the lethargy of just-woken and his internal body-clock telling him it's time to get up. God he's looking forward to school being over. He pulls his laptop toward him and logs on to his e-mail account. Frowns when he sees the alert for a new chapter and he blinks. When the hell did David have time to update his story last night? They were pretty much side-by-side the entire night but the e-mail isn't from after the party, it's from the beginning. Well, just after dinner really, and he can't figure it out.

He wants to read the chapter straight away, but he also wants to know how David updated while out. He's not sure how it works. He doesn't want to wake him, just in case he's still sleeping, so he sends a message and decides to use the bathroom. If there's no response by the time he gets back then he'll read the chapter, he can get the information out of David later.

_You updated. How did you update? We were together all night._

_**Not all the time. The chapter was already written and uploaded, I just needed to publish it to the site.**_

He smiles. David's awake, and he still wants to see how he's feeling about the whole coming out thing, because apart from Mitchell being an ass it went really well. At least he thinks so, but it wasn't his coming out.

_Oh. You do that often? I haven't read it yet. _

_**Well. I hope you like it. And yeah, I don't have to publish like that very often, but I have a few chapters sitting there already uploaded, waiting to go. I just need to publish them.**_

_I wasn't aware it worked like that. Anyway, I'm sure I'll love it. Are you okay with how last night went?_

_**I kind of didn't imagine it turning into a face-off between your friends and my friends but yeah, I'm okay with it. I mean, it could have gone a lot worse you know?**_

Oh, he knows alright, but it could have gone a bit better. Not by much though, given how innocuous the entire evening was. Until New Directions turned up. He rolls his eyes at the memory, glad that Jarvis was so accommodating.

_Okay. Just making sure. Now, I'm going to curl back up in bed and read this new chapter before I face the day._

_**Uh, right. Okay. I'll be here when you're finished. Yeah.**_

David seems a bit distracted, but he lets it slide. He's normally so eloquent when typing, but he supposes they've never talked quite this early before and conveying emotion through black and white is something he doesn't think he'll ever get the knack of. He settles back into bed to read, and it's the final chapter of _Eclipses Orbit, _which he remembers was his first incomplete JohnLock fic that he ever read. The one that started it all and he grins a little, snuggles down into his blankets and tilts the monitor so he can read.

The chapter is _long_, starts with angst of not knowing whether John is dead or alive, in hospital with Sherlock making pithy commentary about the doctors and nurses to distract himself from the fact that John is unresponsive. He knows it has a happy ending, and he's glad he knows, because right now he'd get in his car and drive around to David and demand a re-write if it wasn't a happy ending. Except he remember David saying he's a romantic, and he _knows_ he is, so something is going to happen.

Of course John wakes up, they talk, leaves hospital and then they talk some more. Or rather, John talks and Sherlock hums in response while trailing kisses down John's neck. _Oh._ He stops and chews his lip. He hasn't actually read anything of David's since last Sunday, and he's gone from jerking off multiple times a day to… well, not _nothing_, but he kind of feels like he's cheating on David. With David. He is _so_ screwed up. He knows the rest of the chapter is going to be good, the sexual tension that has been building between them through flashbacks and not-so-accidental touches have been driving him insane, and now… his _boyfriend_ wrote this.

He reads, words painting a picture of hands sliding on wool, pulling at clothes, warm fingers against cool skin, the taste of tea in one mouth, coffee in the other and his hand goes to his own cock in response, licks dry lips and swallows, trying to work some moisture into his mouth. John and Sherlock are naked, bodies moving against each other and he's hard, and damn it, David posted this _last night_. He has no idea what to read into that, if anything, but he kind of wants to read things into it. David knows what his writing does to him. He reaches for his phone and sends a text, knowing it will be quicker and he can think about the consequences later.

_Chat room?_

_**Okay.**_

God he hopes he doesn't have to ask for it outright, because he doesn't know if he can, not now that he knows it's David. Someone he has to look in the eye, someone he wants to do this with in real life. Not that he's _ready_ to do it in real life, but he's already done this with David before. Before he knew it was David. He's tying himself up in knots, probably unnecessarily but god, he's _so_ hard, it's been twenty-four hours since he got off and he really needs to get off.

_**You okay?**_

_Yeah. Of course._

_Was I meant to read that last night?_

_**No. Well, I was thinking when you got home, before you went to sleep. Uh, I know you like, uh, pleasant things to read before bed.**_

_Pleasant. Right. I suppose it's very pleasant, in its own way. _

_**Didn't you like it?**_

_Of course. A little too much. _

There's a delay and he strokes his cock through his pajamas, shuffling in his bed to make himself more comfortable so that if this pans out the way he wants he can read easily.

_**Oh. **_

_**You need some help?**_

_Please._

He feels a surge of pleased relief that he hasn't had to be more obvious about it, and it's arousing just in and of itself, having David know him so well that he doesn't have to direct him. Not when they're like this anyway.

_**Okay.**_

_**I want to watch you. Not right now, but one day.**_

_**One day I want to read to you, watch as you get turned on. Your skin seems to glow all the time, but when you're turned on you just seem so alive it's breath taking. I want to see you like that, hand on your cock, as you listen to me. I'm hard too, because imagining you like that, knowing you're like that because of me, it's the biggest turn on I've ever experienced. We haven't even touched, just a quick kiss. **_

_**Want to touch though, just holding back. **_

David's writing isn't as smooth as it usually is, switching between an imagined scenario and what he suspects is a fantasy. _Or how he's feeling right now_. He groans as he realizes that David is most likely sitting there, typing one-handed, hand on his cock and he doesn't _care_ what the writing is like. He just wants more of it. God, there must be something seriously wrong with him, but he likes this so much, although the impulse to get in his car and drive around and actually do this in person is definitely there. However he knows neither of them are ready for that yet. One day though. He shuffles again, typing painstakingly slowly with one hand, slowing down the stroking with the other.

_Would let you touch. _

_You can touch me._

He wants David to know that. Wants him to not be afraid of touching him, afraid of rejection, or that he wouldn't want it for some reason.

_**God Kurt.**_

_**I know I can touch. But building the anticipation sometimes makes it even better. I told you before, I want to try everything. Slowly. And I really want to see you jerk off. Want to know what you do to yourself when no one is watching. **_

_**Also I wouldn't be reading a story to you, I'd be reading something I'd written just for you. I'd have to have it written down because I know my mind goes fuzzy when you're in the room with me. I want to tell you exactly what I think of every inch of your body, you remember when I said I had a thing about hipbones? **_

_**It's your hipbones. Fuck, they should be illegal. And the way you move your hips sometimes has me instantly turned on. And I think the best part is you don't even know the effect you have on me.**_

He didn't, but he's starting to appreciate exactly how much and he can't help but speed his hand up slightly, increase the pressure. He hasn't exactly prepared for this, doesn't have lube or tissues but he's not stopping.

_**I could write essays about your body.**_

_**I could write essays on your body.**_

_**I really like the idea of that, writing on every part of your body what I'd like to do to it. I think I'd run out of room pretty quickly though.**_

**OAA**

He's already gotten himself off this morning, but he's hard again, knowing that Kurt is reading and jerking off. His entire body had frozen when Kurt had suggested the chat room, and he'd picked his words carefully, worried that maybe he'd done something wrong. The opposite had been true and now his mind is flying around in a million different directions, wondering what he'd want to do with Kurt first if he were actually in the position to. Except he _is_ now. Kurt is his boyfriend, and hopefully one day he can put his words into action. For now though he has this, and he's glad that Kurt is still open to it.

_**Back to where we started, I want to watch as you become more and more aroused. Our hands are on our cocks, over our pants to start with, and we're watching each other, because we want to see each other, see what we do differently, what we like. You make a show of pulling your zipper down, or undoing buttons… **_

Oh fuck. Kurt's probably wearing pajamas again. Soft stretchy fabric which he could just shove over his hips entirely. _Fuck_. He squeezes more roughly than he needs to and groans.

_**You're not wearing any underwear and you stroke your cock, and you smile, pleased, because I'm pulling my cock out too. I'm still going to try reading to you, tell you how much I really want to taste every inch, where you are most responsive, what you like. Try and tell you exactly what my favorite bits are.**_

_**I say try because I'm pretty sure the sight of you jerking off will likely short circuit my ability to communicate.**_

_**We're both too turned on to be embarrassed, because we've both been kind of wanting to do this for a while. **_

_**I'm telling you how badly I want to touch you, taste you, and it's kind of a sweet torture, being so close to you but not touching. You're hands, your gorgeous hands with their long fingers; they're wrapped around your cock, the head all shiny and pink. Your breath is hitching and I want to kiss you, make you lose your breath even more.**_

He doesn't mind not having his typing reciprocated by Kurt. It took his a few months of intense practice to master typing and jerking off, although he was writing smut. Just knowing that Kurt is across town, in his bedroom, jerking off to _him_. It's heady knowledge.

_**Our eyes are pretty much locked on each other's body, and when I lick my lips I can tell your eyes follow the movement. **_

His hand is _flying_ on his cock now, and he knows later he'll likely feel utterly ridiculous and self-conscious, but right now he feels sexy and desired. By _Kurt_. It's that thought that tips him over the edge, catches him by surprise and he's not prepared at all, is mortified by the mess it's making. Fuck. Hand, boxers, shirt, some on his desk, thankfully only the corner of the laptop and he reaches for the tissues, cleaning quickly, his other hand still managing to type and he's trembling slightly, part of it post-orgasm part of it shock.

_**I want to kiss you too much so I come and sit beside you on the bed, brace myself on one hand and lean toward you so our lips can touch. Our hands are both stroking, twisting, thumbs smearing precome over the head. The sounds we're making are mixing together, and we can feel the heat coming off each other's bodies.**_

_daguf_

He grins widely, because the fact that Kurt is even trying to type means he's probably close and he palms his softening cock, glad he's already come, because now he can concentrate on Kurt.

_**You're close, I can tell. I'm close too, but I want to see you come so badly. Your cock is the first one I've seen up close, and I want to memorize every second. **_

He's _really _glad he's already come, because that thought would have tipped him over the edge. Not that he expects to see Kurt's cock anytime soon, but he will, sooner or later. He's had Kurt's body pressed against him, kissed and been kissed. His entire life this last week seems like a dream and he feels almost _too_ happy.

_**Memorize every sound you make.**_

_Coning_

_**I reach for your hand and I lick it clean, taking each finger into my mouth and sucking, licking, tasting, and one day I'll do it to your cock. **_

_Are you trying to kill me?_

_**No. Definitely not.**_

_**Will you recover?**_

_I don't think so. I don't know if I want to. I'd ask you how you got so good at this but I don't think I want to know._

_**I just have a very vivid imagination. You're my first everything.**_

He bites his lip, feeling stripped bare and vulnerable but he trusts Kurt with that, and it's not lke Kurt didn't know that already, but he wants it spelled out just in case.

_I know. I'm very lucky._

That makes him grin and let out a sigh of mixed relief and bemusement, and he's about to type back when there's a knock on his door.

"Dave?"

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. _Sarah._

_**I've got to go, Sarah is banging on my door. Why does she even think I'm awake right now?**_

"I know you're awake, I can hear you typing in there. Why is your door locked?"

He freezes, having kind of forgotten her bedroom is just down the hall and shares a wall with his and he wonders what else she's heard. She knocks, calls out his name again and he groans and wonders when the fuck Sarah became a morning person and he glares at the closed door.

_Mmm. Have a nice day. Still on for the movies tonight?_

_**Definitely. Looking forward to it. You're going back to sleep aren't you?**_

"You're not having cybersex in there are you?"

"Shut up Sarah!"

"Fucking hell! You so are! Does Kurt know?" She half-screeches, door handle rattling.

_Mmm. Maybe. See you tonight. Have a good afternoon at work. Bye._

_**Bye. Sweet dreams. *wink***_

Last message sent he stands and is about to storm over and open the door when he looks down at himself and there is no way in hell he's opening the door right now dressed as he is. He grabs the robe he _never_ wears, it's too thick and fluffy and makes him feel even bigger than he already is and ties it around his waist. Suitably covered he stalks to the door, unlocks it and pulls it open.

"What do you want?"

"Does Kurt know you're cheating on him already?"

"I'm not cheating on him!"

"Cybersex still counts as sex."

He knows he's bright red and he wishes she'd just shut up, but that would be too goo to be true, and his brain is kind of short circuiting at the idea of sex and Kurt in the same sphere of thought.

"I'm not…" he waves his hand in the air, rolling his eyes and just trying to dismiss it all and her eyes suddenly widen.

"_Oh_. I really didn't peg him for the type to let loose. Well, lucky you then huh HH?"

"God, could you not call me that?"

"Why not? When it embarrasses you so much?"

"You're evil…"

"I know, it's my burden in life to carry… I wanted to know if you wanted to do some retail therapy before work."

"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I've suddenly fallen in love with shopping."

"Ha. I wish. I thought, _maybe_, that you might want to spend some more time with me. And so we can pretend that we don't have to have lunch with mom before you get to escape to work."

"Denial? Anyway, mom's not that bad."

"Pfft. Whatever. I wish I still had that naïve optimism. I can't wait to see her face when you tell her. It's the only reason I'm even slightly looking forward to lunch."

His stomach clenches, and he knows he needs to do it, tell his mom he's gay, because now his entire senior year knows, both at his school and at McKinley, and while he's pretty sure his mom isn't going to be happy she'll be even unhappier if she hears the news from someone else. While he's pretty sure Sarah isn't deliberately trying to make him nervous, and he's glad she'll be there for moral support, his mom and Sarah haven't managed to have a civil conversation in months. Years maybe.

"Sarah, I'm not gay to piss mom off."

"Nice side effect though…"

He snorts, because yeah, that's just like Sarah. He hadn't been joking when he said to Kurt last night that she tends to be combative. But only with their mom apparently. He mumbles about going to have a shower and she makes a snarky comment about him having to clean up and he knows he's bright red again and he deals with it by shutting the door in her face.

The do end up going shopping, and he shouldn't be surprised that she drags him around with her, and it's a good a distraction as any from what is coming. He lets her play dress-up for a little while, ignores her comments about him having to get used to it because Kurt will want to do the same, and lets his nerves coalesce into a tight knot in his stomach. He hasn't told Kurt what he's doing, or his dad, only Sarah.

When they pull up outside his mom's place he's quiet, has been for the last thirty minutes or so, and he feels like throwing up. He _definitely_ doesn't feel like sitting down to an early lunch, and he's wondering if he can get it out before they eat, because there's no way he'll be able to eat knowing he still has to say the words.

"Oh look! Both my babies!"

The smile their mom gives them is bright, but Sarah remains stiff, almost brittle, when she hugs them both. Adrian nods to them both sharply and goes back to reading his paper and he's suddenly filled with relief that he no longer spends any significant period of time here; it feels oppressive just being here and he knows he gets to leave shortly anyway. He looks to Sarah, wondering whether she has an opinion on when is the best time and she shrugs, clearly leaving it up to him and he draws in a deep breath, half-listening as his mom ushers them through to the dining room.

"Uh mom, I have something I need to tell you. Before you hear it from someone else…"

Sarah has moved behind him, squeezes his arm and his mom's eyes narrow on the gesture for some reason he doesn't understand.

"What is it honey?"

He takes in another deep breath and says the words on the exhale.

"I'm gay."

There's a brief silence and then her eyes go wide, hand goes to cover her mouth and she's shaking her head and he feels his entire body twist.

"Oh honey. _No_. No no no. You _can't_ be. We can find a way to fix this…"

His stomach is churning, and it's going pretty much going exactly how he imagined it would, and he can feel the tightness in his throat and he swallows against it. He's not going to cry. Not in front of her. Not now, instead pulls out some of the old anger he used to feel that he fought against himself daily to deny and sends it her way.

"I do _not_ need _fixing_ mom…"

"But… but it's not _normal _David."

"I think it would be best if you left," Adrian says from the door way, but he ignores him. He's not leaving unless his mom asks. Except she's just standing there in disbelief, looking at him like he's a stranger.

"Mom?"

"I think, yes I think you'd better go…"

Sarah huffs behind him, like she isn't surprised, and it's sad, but he isn't surprised either.

"Let me know when you decide to be a real mom," Sarah states, and he lets her direct him back toward the front door.

"I love you mom."

He doesn't get a reply, her lips are pressed thin, arms crossed and he leaves.

When he gets into the car he lets himself cry.


	29. Chapter 28

**Author's note**: Only five more chapters after this.

* * *

><p><strong>PART TWENTYEIGHT<strong>

He waits. The first five minutes are acceptable. After ten he's kind of annoyed that David hasn't texted him, or at least responded to any of his texts. After twenty minutes his call goes unanswered and then he starts to worry. He knows David and Sarah were meant to have lunch with their mom, and actually, he hasn't heard from David since then, but David had warned him, saying he had work straight after and he'd see him at six thirty. For a movie at seven. He's swinging between annoyance which he knows might become anger, and worry. David doesn't strike him as someone who would stand someone else up, or forget. He just seems too particular about little things like that, which makes him smile slightly, knowing he's starting to recognize David's little quirks.

When it hits quarter past he heads back to his car, sending another text to David, trying his phone again and leaving a message telling him he's on his way around. He sends another to his dad, just letting him know his change of plans so he doesn't worry. When he pulls up outside David's house he breathes a small sigh of relief when he sees David's car parked out front. He's not been in a car accident, and that's good, but his anger starts ratcheting up, because if David has just _forgotten_ then they need to have a serious talk. He hopes nothing else bad has happened though, his mind whirling and there's only one way to find out and he goes to the front door, where Nick is standing with a hand raised just about to knock.

"Hey Kurt, picking Dave up for a date?"

"I –" Kurt blinks, because even though David came out last night, hearing it just trip off someone else's tongue like that feels odd. "Yeah. Well. We were meant to be meeting at the movies…"

"Oh… he stood you up? What a dumbass."

He feels strangely flattered but instead just knocks on the door, mumbling that David hasn't stood him up, because he'd actually put money on it. Sarah opens the door and looks between them.

"Kurt. Hi… Nick? What are you doing here?"

"Our date?" Nick asks, and Kurt feels his eyebrows fly up of their own accord. Oh boy, he obviously missed something last night.

"What date? I never agreed to go on a date with you…" _That_ sounds more like it.

"Well, you didn't say no so I thought I'd turn up anyway… just in case."

"I have to admire your persistence, if nothing else… Kurt, you can just go up."

"Thanks. Because unlike Nick here I _am_ meant to have a date…"

He feels Sarah's hand on his arm, and if David had ever told him that he was the smaller of his siblings he wouldn't have believed him. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to say something, explain why she's stopped him when he wants to go and chew David out forgetting, because everything is obviously fine but she's looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"He didn't cancel it?"

"What?"

"Your date. Dave didn't cancel?"

"No. Why? Should he have?"

"Oh. I just figured he'd been talking to you all afternoon…"

"He was meant to be at work this afternoon," he replies pointedly, but Sarah shakes her head.

"Nah. They sent him home after about an hour. Uh. He didn't forget about your guys date. Well, he probably did, but… he told our mom at lunch. She… well. Let's just say he was asked to leave."

The tone of her voice makes it perfectly clear what she means and he feels all the anger he was saving to direct at David for _forgetting _suddenly being directed somewhere else.

"_What_?"

"Yeah. Our mom. Shining example of maternal feelings… as long as her kids make her look good."

He doesn't know what to say, just wants to get to David now, because he can't even think what it must be like…

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah, mostly. But he's been in his room typing all afternoon, I figured he was chatting to you…"

"No. Not me…"

All of Nick's teasing tone has gone and he hears him ask to stay, just to hang out and watch a movie and Sarah surprisingly agrees. He's already on the stairs and he stands in front of David's bedroom door and takes in a deep breath, realizes that just last weekend he stood here trying to build up the courage to knock. This time he knocks firmly and with confidence. He's not going to be shut out.

**OAA**

He hears the knock and rolls his eyes. The number of times his dad and Sarah have checked up on him in the space of the last few hours is ridiculous and he huffs in annoyance, calls out that he's fine and he's not hungry, because his dad is predictable like that, and he really isn't hungry, hasn't wanted to eat since the failed lunch even though it's now… Quarter to eight. He freezes. _Hours_. He's been in here for _hours. _Oh fuck. _Fuck_. He swears out loud. His date with Kurt. All his afternoon processing of his mom's rejection churn through him again, because pissing Kurt off after the day he's had is the last thing he wants to do. It's probably too late. New record, how to loose a guy in a week. He scrambles for his phone, sitting in his jacket pocket on silent. Oh god. Three missed calls. Fifteen texts.

There's more knocking at the door and he pulls it open, ready to tell whoever it is to shove off, because he has some serious groveling to do, and it's _not_ to them, except, it is. Because it's Kurt, standing there and then he's being hugged, Kurt's arms around him, tighter than he ever thought Kurt could hug. He hugs back, tightly, relieved, because Kurt doesn't seem pissed off at all but he needs to apologize anyway.

"Kurt. I'm so sorry. I would never…"

"Shh, I know. You been writing or chatting?"

He'd never understood the phrase '_feel my heart swell_' but he experiences it in that moment, that Kurt knows him so well, that he knows he's either spent the afternoon writing or chatting to deal with what has happened. It makes him feel so good and he also realizes either his dad or Sarah has gotten to Kurt first, which would explain the lack of anger.

"Both. A bit of both. God it's good to see you… who told you?"

"Sarah. I didn't see your dad. Are you okay?"

He shrugs, because no, he isn't, not really, but there's not a lot anyone can say or do. He lets Kurt push him back into his room, doesn't say anything about Kurt closing the door and lets himself be directed to his bed where he's pushed down to lie on his back, heart suddenly racing, but relaxing slightly when he feels Kurt take off his shoes and then simply curl up beside him, head propped on his hand and he turns on his side slightly to face him.

"You want to talk about it?"

"I've already talked it through. A lot. And… uh… cried," he mutters, because despite the fact that Kurt has seen him cry before he still has issues about showing that much raw emotion and vulnerability outwardly. Kurt's hand reaches for his, fingers rubbing over his and he squeezes his hand.

"And you tried going to work?"

"Yeah. I thought I could do with a distraction you know?" He laughs self-depreciatingly. "Didn't work. They sent me home."

"Sarah said…"

"Yeah. Sarah's pretty pissed off…"

"Mmm. You're not?"

"I'm… sad. Really sad. For me. For her. It's not my problem though. She might change…"

"You're incredibly calm about this. I think I feel more angry than you…"

"I was pretty convinced this was how she was going to be. I've had a while to prepare myself for it."

"Oh David, that's really sad…"

"Yeah. I'd probably be in hospital getting treated for shock if she'd said something nice…"

He feels the trickle of a tear and then Kurt's hand rests on his face, a fingertip wiping the wetness away and then there's the warm press of lips on his. It's different, and he knew there were different types of kisses, and this is pure comfort and warmth. He relaxes into it, curls his body slightly and lets himself enjoy the sensation, the complete lack of expectation. It only lasts a few seconds and Kurt doesn't pull away, rests their foreheads together.

"I wish there was something I could say or do to make this better."

He pulls back then, incredulous, because Kurt can't seriously think… nope, he clearly does and he settles back down and huffs in amusement.

"Kurt, what you're doing right now is helping… making it better. Seriously. I was going to do it sooner or later, it just… had to be sooner. And at least I have a boyfriend to consol me right?"

He says the words completely seriously, but he's trying to lighten the mood, hopes Kurt gets that and after just a few seconds he feels Kurt giggle and yeah, there are a lot of things he'd go through to have this in his life.

"You should have thought of that earlier. I could have been here all afternoon."

"Uh, I think I needed to talk it out online first… I might not be angry now, but I think I was a little angry before."

"I remember you saying you had a whole bunch of online friends. Are you close?"

From anyone else he'd think they were mocking him, but given how he and Kurt have connected he thinks he probably has a deeper appreciation of how close he considers some of his online friendships and he nods.

"Yeah. There's a few. Wonderful people. Just… all really open and friendly and accepting. I should introduce you. I blogged about you."

"Oh, you blogged about me huh?"

"Yeah, you're a pretty big deal…"

"So I'm in there mixed in with all the JohnLock porn and fanfiction and moving picture thingees…"

"Gifs. And yes, well, StarFruitLover is."

"Oh god David, did you have to tell them that?"

"Well, I told them the whole story behind it. They already think you're adorable."

"Adorable. _Brilliant_."

"Hey, what's wrong with being adorable?"

"Nothing, just… it's nothing."

"Kurt… talk to me." Silence falls between them, and he lets himself just enjoy the feel of Kurt's hand on his, their faces so close he can smell the mint on Kurt's breath and his cologne. "Please?"

"I just feel… have felt… like I'm this cute little…_thing_ to be admired, and I'm… not. I'm a guy. A gay guy, who okay, has fantastic fashion sense, but I just get annoyed when people seem to think that I'm somehow asexual or something."

He chokes then, coughing, because how anyone can think of Kurt that way, how Kurt can think that he might think of him that way… he can't assume anything.

"You don't think I think that do you?"

"I don't know. Do you?" He's never heard Kurt sound so vulnerable before, not in the time he bullied him, not when he was crowned Prom Queen, even in his tears Kurt was angry and defiant.

"Kurt… do you remember what we did this morning? Online?"

"_Oh_."

"Yeah. _Oh_. Trust me when I say you are the least asexual person I know," he states, placing his lips on Kurt's and enjoying the gentle pressure returned. "Doesn't mean you're not adorable as well, with your whole newbie approach to choosing usernames. If you're ever in any doubt about how attractive you are I'll be more than happy to tell you…"

He likes the faint flush he can see and he relaxes even further, tired and also emotionally drained.

"I'm happy to tell you too…"

"Hmm. What?"

"If you're ever in any doubt about how attractive you are I'll be more than happy to tell you…"

He snorts in disbelief, because while he knows he's not exactly ugly, he's not good looking like Blaine, or Sebastian. And definitely not in the same ballpark as Kurt, so he's just glad that Kurt has seen something in his online persona that he seems to like.

"David… you don't believe me. Why don't you believe me?"

He doesn't want to bring up the insults Kurt shouted at him, because _hello_, he shouted insults at him, physically assaulted him, bullied him, kissed him out of shock-fear-anger and Kurt has _forgiven_ him. Forgiven him enough to enable them to be starting out a relationship together. He can forgive Kurt calling him some names, definitely, but they sit in the back of his head anyway, reminding him that they were said.

"David, please tell me…"

"You called me chubby once." He says it quietly, and it's sounds small and petty to his ears, but in fact he has the entire thing seared in his mind and he could repeat Kurt's words back to him by rote if asked.

"Did I? When?"

Kurt sounds confused and he bites his lip, because he really didn't want to talk about this, and yet here he is, talking about it, and he usually sucks at talking, even though so far tonight he hasn't actually done anything to screw up.

"Uh, just before I kissed you…"

"I… don't remember. God, all I remember of that moment now is the adrenaline of running after you and fear and it all going to shock. Just… _emotions_. Oh god David… whatever I said, you think I meant them… I _didn't._"

He shrugs, suddenly feeling strange. Words that he's been holding on to, that he's let affect him so deeply, Kurt doesn't even remember saying them. That suddenly makes them so much less important, Kurt's tone of voice make it clearly evident that he _doesn't_ remember, but he realizes that the words were spoken in anger, aiming for his possible weak points which has all instantly become weak points because the words had come from Kurt himself.

Kurt's been talking while he's been having his little self-revelation, and he hears mention of several things that make no sense and then Kurt is nudging him onto his back and he goes, surprised when Kurt straddles one of his legs, all his weight on his own legs.

"Last Saturday, at the bookstore, I was admiring, um, your ass, and your back and uh, shoulders, and then I realized it was you and felt guilty because well… it felt rude to be objectifying you like that. Um."

_Huh_. That's why he'd squeaked out his name and he bites his bottom lip, inordinately pleased that Kurt does actually find him physically attractive, he can live with being sexually objectified. Although he's got to point out Kurt's double standard to him later, because he clearly likes that fact that Dave himself objectifies him.

"And it didn't end there. You wear your work shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and your forearms are kind of, um, _nice_."

He's never thought of his arms before and he flexes them experimentally and when Kurt reaches up to run his hands down each arm, starting from the shoulder he has to stop himself from making any sound, because whatever it would be is guaranteed to be embarrassing.

"In fact, I probably look at your forearms the way you look at my hips…" Kurt says quietly, running his fingertips over the hair on his arms and he snorts.

"I seriously fucking doubt that, but okay…"

"My fixation is just more acceptable to touch in public. Less taboo."

He meets Kurt's eyes and then he's being kissed again, although his mind is firing of hundreds of messages, most of them the same, _hot, body, pressure_ as Kurt lowers his body onto his, rotates his hips in a way that reminds him that Kurt's a dancer and _holy shit_. One of his hands automatically goes to Kurt's hips, just so he can feel those movements in more detail, although the fact that Kurt's grinding their crotches together makes him pretty sure he's not going to be able to pay attention to much else.

He can feel the skin on Kurt's face, smooth, and he knows he probably shaved before heading out for their date that was never meant to be. Kurt's lips and tongue are on his mouth and he kisses back, lets himself go, his own hips pressing up when Kurt pushes down, and _wow_, so this is dry-humping. Kurt's tongue slips into his mouth, and he moans, in sensory overload, not sure what to focus on.

Kurt's body is rocking and flexing above him, the slide of tongue and lips, hot and wet, one hand braced on his shoulder, the other moving from his hair to his arm to his face and he gasps, because as good as it feels after the emotional roller coaster he's experienced today he'd rather not add this to the mix. Although he doesn't know if he can actually bring himself to say something vocally, because he also doesn't want to piss Kurt off or for him to leave. As good as it feels he doesn't think either of them are quite ready for this, emotionally. Physically they were ready years ago no doubt, but god, why can't he just not worry about the emotional shit, just once.

"We really need to uh, calm down…?" He asks, and it's a token protest, because he feels like he's fighting a loosing battle, this way he can leave the ball in Kurt's court.

"Yeah. Yeah. I agree…" The sudden loss of friction on his cock is both disappointing and a relief, although Kurt continues kissing him and he likes it too much to want to stop. No parent interrupting this time. "Did I tell you that Nick's here?"

_That_ forces him to pull away and he looks up at Kurt, and he hopes like hell Nick isn't hanging around waiting for him, because he'll be waiting a long time.

"What? Why?"

"He was trying to convince Sarah they had a date…"

"I… really?" Nick and Sarah are apparently a suitably calming topic of conversation and he takes a steadying breath, although all he can smell is Kurt, who has moved back to lie beside him. "Do I need to go down and protect my sister's honor or something?"

"I think after last night your sister has shown that she's perfectly capable of looking after herself. If anything you have to admire Nick for having big enough balls to keep up his pursuit, no matter how futile."

"I'd rather not think about Nick at all thanks…"

"Mmm. Fair enough. How are you feeling?"

"Like…" _I want you on the other end of a computer right now so I can get off._ "I'm fine. Good. Better."

"Could be _better_ of course…" Kurt says, and the way he says it makes him think and then he's laughing, Kurt laughing as well and he turns to his side, wraps his arms around Kurt and hugs him, intensely grateful that he has him in his life now.


	30. INTERLUDE 2

**INTERLUDE TWO**

He leaves Burt's, joking about suddenly not having to sneak around and Carole rolls her eyes and takes the dish of odd tasting vegetable chips back into the kitchen. They've been watching a couple of games, and he knows he's pretty much hiding from Sarah right now, but his own daughter scares him. He knows Morgan has no doubt managed to alienate Sarah for good this time, because treating David like that has been the final straw. She's protective like that, not something she gets from her mother.

He sighs, wishes that his ex-wife could at least love and support their children even while not agreeing with their actions. He never expected to raise David to be a clone of himself, but Morgan seems to look at Sarah and see failure every single time because of all the ways in which she is different. He shuts off the engine and heads for his front door, noting Kurt's Navigator, which is hard to miss, and an unfamiliar slightly-battered looking car of unknown origin.

He opens the front door and stops abruptly. There are _sounds_ coming from the lounge and his eyes widen. He didn't think with the day David' has had that he'd be… he shakes his head. Of _course_ he would be, he's a teenage boy. And distraction is probably the best thing David could ask for right now, and well, he has had the house to himself and Kurt's been here…is _still_ here. He heads down the hall, flicking on every possible light on the way and deliberately trying to make as much noise as possible before stepping into the lounge and flicking the light on. He half expects naked flesh, he _definitely _expects David and Kurt and he should really stop expecting things.

"Who are you?" Paul asks, shocked to see Sarah and some boy on the sofa. "Where's David?" He asks, looking around, pretending that maybe David is hiding behind a cushion rather than pretending he can't see his daughter's bra.

"Uh, I'm Nick. A –"

Sarah slaps a hand over his mouth and he raises an eyebrow. How she's managed to find an eligible guy in the forty-eight hours since she's been back in town he's not sure, but she's old enough to be making her own decisions, and well, she's always been aware of his house rules just enough to break them. Or stretch them. And if he says anything she'll just point out that she's not a child. He sighs.

"Dave's in his room. With Kurt," Sarah supplies, straightening her top, and weirdly looking a bit embarrassed, mumbling under her breath that maybe Nick should leave.

"At least I've met Kurt…" Paul grumbles under his breath, shooting a look at this Nick guy, and he kind of looks a bit familiar, but he has no idea where from.

He trudges up the stairs, still grumbling. He's too old for this, and he's glad David was a late bloomer, or maybe not. The door is closed. He stares at it, and he knows, logically, that it's not going to suddenly become transparent, but he wishes it would, because he sure as hell doesn't want to knock on it. Oh god. They made out with an open door, what they're doing right now could be anything and maybe he could get Sarah to give him the sex talk, she's always known a lot. He can feel the panic starting to rise and he does the first thing he can think of. Share it.

"Hey Burt."

"Paul? Hey… Is everything alright? Kurt's okay right?"

"Yeah. Yeah of course. I mean… well, his cars out front…"

"Okay, just send him home. I mean, it's past his curfew, but he did tell me he was at your place…"

"His door is closed. I…"

He and Burt have different opinions on the matter. He considers himself easier going. More open minded. Not that he wants David to be all out there and promiscuous, but he does want him to be safe. And if allowing him to have girls, well, boys, stay over, makes him less likely to make stupid calls, then well… Judy has been talking him round. And Carole has been working on Burt, and he's certain they bonded on Wednesday night over the fact that the pair of them are no doubt crotchety stick-in-the-muds, but well, it's not their kids.

"Go and listen!" Burt repeats and he can't believe he's doing this, he's certain grown adults don't listen at their kids' bedroom doors but there he is, one ear to his phone, the other pressed to David's bedroom door.

"Well?"

"Nothing."

"Really? How thick is the door?" He doesn't even get to answer before Burt id demanding that he open the door.

He feels like saying _you open the door!_ But that would be childish. And pointless, seeing as Burt is halfway across town. He turns to find Sarah regarding him with an expression that just makes him feel embarrassed on several different levels. She rolls her eyes at him and then opens the door, no knocking or anything and he squeezes his eyes shut and hears Sarah snort and Burt is asking him if he's opened the door yet. He cracks open an eye and he feels his heart soften a little. They're asleep, bodies both on their sides and curled toward each other and he ducks his head, smiling, leaving Sarah to grab a blanket and turn off the desk lamp.

"They're sleeping."

"_Naked_?"

"What? No! …Burt, they're over eighteen," he sighs. "They're fully dressed, on top of the covers even… just fast asleep. You want me to go and wake Kurt up and send him home?"

Burt sighs then and maybe if he hadn't gone through hell with Sarah he'd find it more difficult to let go with David, but as it stands, he's got to let go. And so does Burt. They have to start trusting them, and judging from Wednesday night and just now the most exciting thing David and Kurt seem to get up to when alone is sleep, which he knows can't be true, but if he can hold on to that belief then he will and he doesn't care if he's being naïve.

"No. Don't. Let him sleep. He's there, he's safe… it's… fine. It's fine."

"You're fine too," Paul says, and smiles as Sarah closes the door.


	31. Chapter 29

**Author's note**: Four more to go.

* * *

><p><strong>PART TWENTYNINE<strong>

He wakes up too hot, and he twists, sleepy, why in the hell is he dressed? He feels something large and warm shift and he freezes, everything suddenly sharpening into pinpoint focus and he's instantly wide awake. He can hear Kurt muttering under his breath almost chanting and he struggles with the blanket, and who draped a blanket over them? He can't believe he fell asleep, that they both fell asleep, _again_. It's almost embarrassing.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god… dead, so _so_ dead."

He sounds frantic, and he realizes Kurt's trying to do up his shoes in the dark and he reaches out for the lamp switch, shielding his eyes and still squinting when the room is suddenly filled with bright light. He turns it down and he can tell Kurt has turned to him, eyes squinting as well.

"David, we _fell asleep_! But… oh god, my dad's never going to believe that! Who'd believe that?"

No one, he has to admit, but someone came in and put a blanket on them, and left them sleeping, which is definitely suspicious.

"What time is it?"

He watches as Kurt pulls his phone from his pocket, he's probably been sleeping on it and Kurt looks surprised. More than surprised. _Shocked_.

"What?"

"I… have a message from my dad."

"Oh fuck, he's going to kill me isn't he…"

Kurt shakes his head, although it doesn't make him feel any better. Then Kurt holds out his phone, inviting him to read the message and he tentatively takes it.

_It's fine. See you in the morning._

"What the fuck?"

They have to be screwing with them. All the sex talks, the whole open door thing, and then Wednesday night, and the conflicting messages he's getting are going to do his head in. Not that he's _doing_ anything, but obviously someone thinks they are.

"Well… it's… different?"

"Do you think it's a test?" Dave asks, and he feels a little panicked, because it's kind of like the time his mom put chocolate everywhere while she was dieting so that she wouldn't give in to temptation.

"I really don't know… but it's three in the morning. I'm not going home. I mean… is it okay if I stay?"

He stares at Kurt in disbelief, and then nods dumbly when Kurt looks serious, as if it wouldn't be okay for some weird reason, like they haven't just spent the last few hours asleep together. He flushes suddenly at the realization and hopes that the dim light helps hide his blush.

"Do you have a t-shirt I could borrow? And maybe some pajama pants or something?"

Kurt is _definitely_ blushing and he can't help a small grin as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads over to his dresser. He has multiple pairs of pajamas, the same present he gets every year from his Aunt Katy, completely useless because he usually sleeps in boxers and a t-shirt. He usually gives them to Goodwill, unopened, and sure enough, there's one packet still in his drawer. He grabs a set for himself and turns back to Kurt, shy. It would feel weird to sleep in his boxers and t-shirt if Kurt is covered head-to-toe in pajamas. His pajamas.

"I'll just go and change in the bathroom," he mumbles, and Kurt looks like he's about to object, but doesn't say anything, so he hands over the unopened packet and quickly leaves. He changes _fast_, and then stops, wonders whether he's changed too fast. He doesn't want to interrupt Kurt in the middle of changing, but he doesn't want Kurt to think he's in here jerking off or anything, not that he could be blamed for that right now, because simply being around Kurt turns him on, but it'd be kind of creepy.

When he goes back into the bedroom Kurt's in his bed and he can't move from the doorway, taking in the image of Kurt sitting, back against the headboard, sleeves rolled up and somehow managing to look sexy in flannel. He's pretty sure he looks like a country hick in his pajamas, and Kurt's wearing his new favorite pair, but he can live with that. He manages, with some effort and willpower to not look like an idiot, to unglue his feet and move back to his bed, quietly hyperventilating.

"Can you tell me about them?" Kurt asks, and he looks up at where Kurt has nodded and takes a shaky breath, knowing Kurt is trying to either distract him or calm him, because he's pretty sure the last thing Kurt is interested in are his model planes.

"Oh. They're a hobby. Not now. When I was younger, I used to make them with my grandpa, who used to make them with my dad. I've been trying to decide what to do with them actually. I mean, I'm a little too old for model planes…"

"I don't think your grandfather would think that, if he was making them with you."

He pauses and shrugs, sitting on the edge of his bed but looking up at the planes.

"No, I suppose not."

"You could take one with you, to New York I mean… just as a reminder. Would be nice don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess. What about you? Any models?"

"Not unless you count the runway type, no. I do have a couple of model car kits, dad bought them for me when I was younger, I think he hoped I'd like building them," Kurt says, throwing back the blankets. He takes the invitation and burrows down into his bed, feeling ridiculously self-conscious that he's sharing it with Kurt. _Knowingly_. Kurt makes himself comfortable beside him, facing him again like they did previously.

It feels startlingly intimate, but he likes it. They've shared so much already that this just seems like a progressive step, an emotional one, and while it still feels so early, it also isn't, so he can't bring himself to mind. He reaches behind him and turns out the lamp, sending the room into darkness again and he feels Kurt's hand reach for his holding it beneath the blanket and all he can hear is them breathing.

"Tell me something I don't know…"

"Uh… about what?"

"Anything. Anything at all."

"Um. Well, this was my grandparents' house. When my parent's divorced my dad moved back in here, and I got my dad's old room, this one, and my grandparents moved downstairs to the den because they couldn't handle the stairs so well… that type of anything?"

"Yeah. That's perfect. Rachel Berry and I once broke into the Gershwin Theatre."

"The one in New York?"

"Is there more than one?"

"Probably."

"I'm kind of surprised you know about the Gershwin Theatre."

"I know lots of useless things. I read a lot."

"Mmm. It's not useless. Tell me something else."

They trade quite facts back and forth, the time between each one getting further and further until he doesn't get a response to his whispered admission that he's kind of afraid of the ocean. Maybe. He's never seen it so he doesn't know really. Kurt just breathes soft and steady beside him and he smiles and lets himself drift off to sleep.

When he wakes up he can only hope he hasn't drooled everywhere. They don't seem to have moved much and he feels stiff and he'd feel nervous if it weren't for the fact that he's overwhelmed with relief for not having woken up with an erection for once. Kurt looks tousled, hair kind of stuck at odd angles and he won't tell him out loud, but blinking sleepily at him he looks adorable. There's no other word for it. He can see the smooth line of Kurt's collar bone where the neck of the pajama top is stretched and he smiles slowly.

"Morning."

"Morning. Sleep okay?"

"Yeah." He can feel the heat in his cheeks though, just the idea that he's slept with Kurt Hummel. "How about you?"

"I slept really well, once I was distracted from my dad's text message."

"Yeah, that was weird."

"Mmm."

Kurt moves forward then, rubs his face along his jaw and kisses him just below his ear, sending jolts of awareness outward from that one spot and he turns his head, wanting to kiss Kurt properly only to have him pull back.

"Morning breath."

"Oh… don't care," he mumbles, hoping his breath doesn't stink and feels the bed shake as Kurt laughs and then he's getting a proper kiss. He can feel the soft-scratch of stubble against his skin the soft press of lips, the warmth of Kurt's fingers on his face before he pulls back, blinks at him slowly again and places a tiny peck to the tip of his nose.

"So, going to offer me breakfast?"

"Yeah, yeah of course…"

His own stomach rumbles then, reminding him that he skipped lunch and dinner yesterday and _yep_, still plenty of room for embarrassment. He offers Kurt the shower and he just shakes his head, telling him food is more important right now. They go downstairs, and he'd kind of like to kiss him again but instead just reaches for his hand, squeezing it quickly before letting it drop and Kurt in too-baggy pajama pants isn't something he thought he'd find hot, but then again, it's Kurt, so he suspects he'll always find everything about him hot.

Sarah is toasting bagels and grins at them when they enter the kitchen, and he can tell she's going to harass him later, but for some reason she's holing back in front of Kurt and he's thankful for small mercies. His dad looks up from the paper and then resolutely looks back down and he can just hear him mumble under his breath;

"I haven't had enough coffee for this…"

**OAA**

He's endured another awkward conversation with his dad, and he understands a bit better now where he's coming from. It doesn't take away the oddness, but he gets it. He is growing up, maturing, and part of that is the ability and responsibility to make decisions. His dad has to trust himself that he's done the best job he can in regards to bringing him up. It had kind of been emotional really, the realization seeming to hit both of them that he's _leaving_. Going to New York and he will have dozens of decisions to make every day.

Today though, he's at David's graduation, allowed the day off school, it's not like he's doing anything important at school in his last week. And if Sarah's prediction is right, then there would be two empty seats anyway, which makes him rage quietly inside. He's met David's grandparents, his mom's parents, and he'd expected cold and heartless people. He'd been wrong. He's been hugged and tutted over, told how handsome and charming he is; then overheard them tell David that his mother is a fool, but that she might come around. No one seems to be holding out much hope though, and no one expects her or Adrian to show today. Except maybe David. Kurt's pretty sure that he's quietly hopeful and he has to stop his jaw clenching every time David glances in their general direction, eyes skipping over them, searching.

Speeches start and he feels a little thrill knowing that it will be his turn on Saturday. It goes surprisingly fast, and Friday night has helped, because he actually recognizes most of the people and when Mitchell walks across the stage Sarah gives his leg a fist bump and Paul looks between them, likely worried about how Mitchell got the black eye. When Nicholas Jackson walks across the stage he jolts when Sarah jumps to her feet and cheers. He glances to Paul, whose eyes have gone wide, suddenly staring at Nick on stage and then at his daughter and he's pretty sure he can hear muttering but he can't tell what he's saying with the applause.

All five of them are on their feet when David's name is called, and he waves at them, embarrassed but pleased, but he can tell David is still looking to see whether his mom has turned up. Afterward he holds David's hand, offering his silent support as his grandparents insist on taking them all out for a meal. David is subdued, and he hates that what is meant to be a joyous celebration has been completely overshadowed. He wishes he could do something, _anything_ that would make David feel slightly better. His phone vibrates then, and he can tell from David's ducked head that it's from him and he chances a quick look.

_**I really thought she'd come. Thanks for being here.**_

He smiles and leans into David's side, maybe he's doing exactly what he needs to.


	32. Chapter 30

**Author's note**: Three more after this.

Also, some of you may be aware that fic is being taken down off FF net for violating the ToS. This fic violates it on several accounts, but I am slowly moving all my fic to both LiveJournal and AO3 (Archive of Our Own). Neither of these places requires you to login to have any special access to read the fic.

* * *

><p><strong>PART THIRTY<strong>

He tries not to dwell on his mom's attitude, and Sarah's ranting and throwing things had become more amusing than anything else, but now she's gone back to Boston, and he's on summer vacation. He has a boyfriend who actually knows everything about him and likes him anyway, which feels like it's too good to be true, but Kurt seems to enjoy reminding him. He's chatted a lot to his friends online, people much older than him who have gone through this. It's nice, having their support, knowing he's not alone; because as wonderful as Kurt is, he's never had to deal with someone you love suddenly turning their back.

Today though he's had three days since his own graduation and he's picking Kurt up from school, mainly because Kurt demanded it of him. But it's Kurt's last ever Glee practice, something he seems quite torn up about, and he gets it. He knows that for a while it was one of the only things Kurt enjoyed about school. While he's kind of tempted to go in and listen, he's pretty sure half the glee club is still out for his blood, so he'll hang out in the parking lot, leaning against his car and basking in the sun. It's weird being back at McKinley after avoiding it for over a year, but the fact that he never has to step inside a high school as a student again feels damn good.

He's thinking through new story ideas in his head, running dialogue and he pulls out his phone to make a few notes. He shoots of a smiley-face text to Kurt and grins when he gets a kiss in response. It makes him feel equal parts soppy and happy, but he wouldn't change it. He hears the crunch of asphalt and looks up and sees

"Dave. What are you doing here?"

"Uh… hey Zee."

His heart seems to beat double time. Azimio doesn't look friendly, arms crossed over his chest. Actually, he looks _seriously _pissed off and he swallows.

"I'm here to pick up Kurt. Uh. I'm gay."

He hadn't meant to say that. Not like that. It's only the third time he's said the words out loud, and this is _definitely_ the least eloquent coming out so far. And probably the worst located one. In public in the parking lot outside his old school, with his old best-friend looking at him with what he can only describe as pent up anger.

"Yeah, I over heard that on Monday. You didn't think that I'd maybe like to hear it from you?"

"Uh, I didn't think you'd want to hear from me at all."

He doesn't see the punch coming, but he's glad he has the car behind him, because it stops him from falling to the ground, his eyes streaming. He can hear the sound of running feet, and he assumes they're coming towards him, which is the last thing he wants. He blinks and the vision of Az standing in front of him swims back into focus.

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Uh, yeah?" He's not going to argue with him, because no doubt that would result in another punch, which he wants to avoid at all costs right now.

"You just can't punch people because they're gay!"

Oh fuck, it's Rachel Berry, the avenging angel of gay-rights, and boy can she screech. At least this time it's not aimed toward Kurt and he looks around. Sure enough Kurt's there, along with the rest of New Directions. Puckerman and Hudson have both taken a step toward Az, as if they're ready to hold him back, but Az is waving a hand at them.

"I didn't punch him because he's gay!" Well, if anyone in Lima didn't know already that he's gay, Az yelling that at the top of his lungs while waving in his general direction has probably just solved _that_ problem at least. "I punched him because he's a shitty friend."

"Oh…"

That seems to be met with a confused standoff, the New Directions all standing there, as if they're confused about what to do next. Az snorts and shakes his head, mutters _'later losers'_ under his breath and stalks off, sending him a final pissed off look and he sighs and then jumps when he feels a cool finger run down the bridge of his nose.

"I think he broke your nose…"

"Nah. I've had a broken nose, this isn't that bad…"

"Oh. Well, do you want to get it seen anyway?"

"Nah, I'll just put some ice on it when I get home. Oh…"

"I have ice at my place. Come on…"

He lets Kurt drive his car, because it hurts to blink and it's not worth the hassle to insist about something so small. He smiles as Kurt fusses over him, and he should have guessed Kurt would be a carer, making him lie down on the sofa with ice on his nose, hold his hand and mumbling nonsense about wanting to kiss it better if he could guarantee that it wouldn't hurt him further.

"My mouth didn't get hit…" he offers, grinning. He can't see Kurt though, not with the ice back covering his nose and eyes.

"Is that a hint?"

"A kiss might distract me from the pain?"

"Mmm. I'm pretty sure if you can think about kissing then the pain can't be that bad…"

He laughs, because he has a good point. His nose is so numb now that the cold seeping into the rest of his face is actually proving to be more painful then the punch. And then he feels Kurt's lips, and they feel boiling hot compared to the chill on his face and he grabs the ice pack, letting it drop to the floor and kissing Kurt back. Kurt had been right, the more they make out the less self-conscious he feels, and he knows Kurt will tell him the instant something doesn't feel right. Although that hasn't happened yet, he's always been the one putting the breaks on, mainly because he couldn't really believe Kurt actually wanted him. Their talk on Saturday and make-out sessions since then have gone a long way to getting him over that issue.

"Oh for… boys, do you mind?"

He's pretty sure he does Kurt some injury when he moves, sitting up so suddenly and simultaneously trying to skitter away from him. Kurt lets out an _oomph_ and gives him a look that tells him that they'll be talking about this later. Despite how comfortable he now feels with Kurt, Burt Hummel is another story. Even if Burt pretends he's fine with everything Dave just can't forget that Kurt is his son and once pinned him against a wall. He forces himself to calm down, because Burt is only looking amused. Kurt lets out an annoyed huff and stands up, picking up the icepack and handing it to his father.

"Here, take this."

"Is this what kids are using instead of cold showers these days?"

"Dad!"

_Oh god_. His eyes go wide and he starts shaking his head.

"What? It's just a question," Burt replies, although he looks far too pleased.

"Uh, no, one of my old friends at McKinley punched me," Dave supplies, because he really needs to clear this misunderstanding up. Right now.

"What? Are you alright?" Instantly Burt's amusement turns to concern, but he doesn't have time to reply because Kurt is tugging him up to standing by his hand, answering for him.

"He's fine. We're going to my room…"

He lets himself be led to Kurt's room, and this is actually the first time he's been in here, and he looks around with interest. There's more clutter than he thought there would be, but the large wardrobes are definitely something he expected. He turns to find Kurt staring at him, hands on his hips and eyebrows drawn down in a frown.

"Seriously David, you need to stop acting like you're doing something dirty with me every time my dad walks in."

He feels like that's a bit unfair, given that Burt has only walked in on them twice, and once they were asleep on a sofa, so he doesn't know if that even counts.

"Uh, you need to give me a break. We've been together for nearly two weeks, and I'm only just getting my head around that. You need to let me freak out about your dad okay?"

He's clearly said something right, because Kurt is suddenly pressing against him, kissing him and walking him back toward the door, which closes as he's pressed against it. He lets his hands grip Kurt's hips, pulling him closer, Kurt's hands are gripping his shoulders before one curls in to his hair and forces their mouths harder together.

**OAA**

He didn't expect to feel such a rush at David's quietly spoken disagreement, but it's the first time he's actually stood up for himself. The fact that he feels like he can, that he trusts Kurt enough to know he can disagree and not be dumped immediately. Well, it's kind of a turn on. He doesn't want David agreeing with him all the time, and it means he's more comfortable and really would ask to stop if he got uncomfortable.

It's a bit weird, having to kiss upward, not enough to develop a crick in his neck, but just enough to be noticeable. Except for a few pecks they've always been sitting or lying down when making out so far, and standing, pressing David against his bedroom door, the one he's suddenly allowed to have closed. He presses his knee between David's, and _hmm_, friction. He doesn't stop the kissing, and it's almost frantic for him, this sudden desire to simply kiss David forever. It just feels so good, the warmth and pressure and the raspy slide of skin, swollen lips and slick tongues. He thrusts forward, rutting against David's thigh and creating friction against his hardening erection. He doesn't want to stop but the half-caught moan in David's throat makes him pause and pull back just for a second.

"This okay?"

"Fuck yes…"

There's no hesitation there and he thrills at it. He has no idea how far this is going to go, but he already feels more closely connected with David then he did with Blaine. That's wrong, he doesn't feel closer, it just feels _different_. Better. More intense. It has to be the weeks of chatting online everyday, then the last twelve days of seeing each other almost every day. With dates organized by well-meaning father's, and sleeping together in the same bed, just cuddled together, and yet there's been nothing more… yet.

He snaps his hips forward and lets out a gasp, feels David's hands grip tightly and he pushes back into him, mumbling obscenities under his breath and he didn't think he'd find that a turn on either, but a David at loss for words is something he likes the idea of. As long as he's the cause. They start a rocking cadence, and he goes up onto his toes every time David thrusts toward him, his thigh between his legs lifting him slightly, increasing the pressure on both the forward and backwards thrusts, meaning he just wants it harder and faster.

"Stop, please, just… just for a second… one second…" He freezes for all of a second, but David's hips don't stop moving, and one hand stays very firmly gripped on his hip. The blush on David's cheeks is adorable and he buries his face into his neck while David readjusts himself, trying not to laugh hysterically. There's a perfectly good bed only a few feet behind him, but instead they're making out against a wall. "Fuck Kurt."

With that mumbled into his hair and the thrusting resuming at an increased pace now that David has made himself more comfortable he reaches a hand down, wanting to touch and his eyes fly open. Oh _god_, Puck hadn't been exaggerating and he groans, curling his fingers slightly and pressing his palm between their bodies. David gasps and groans, his movements becoming jerky. He's learning so much about himself right now, because he can't wait until David is ready to maybe have sex with him. Sex with no clothes and involving lube and… oh god. Dirty talk as well his mind supplies as David's '_so fucking hot Kurt, gorgeous'_ makes his body zing with awareness, and okay, maybe it's the gasped compliments, but still. And _reading_. He can't forget his first kink that David introduced him to. And he used to think he was so plain and vanilla. Laughter bubbles up in him and he throws his head back, feels David's tongue swipe up the column of his neck and his entire body stills and then stutters, coming , and he moves his hand, harder and faster, capturing David's lips with his again, and bruising his lips with the force.

"Oh fuck, Kurt… _Kurt_…"

"Mmm, you going to come for me David?"

He doesn't get a verbal answer, not one he could name anyway, and he feels David's knees buckle slightly before they catch and strengthen again, catching both his boneless weight and his own, breath coming in staccato gasps.

"Fucking hell…"

"Yeah. That was… good."

"Good? _Fantastic_…" David corrects, and he bites his lip, amused, because the look of complete euphoria of David's face makes him feel incredibly proud right now. He also feels decidedly sticky, something David must be feeling as well, and now for the awkward part. He kisses him again before pulling back and grabbing the box of tissues beside his bed. He can feel David watching him, and it feels intoxicating to be the sole focus of someone's desire, even when it's _after_ getting off.

"Um, we kind of need…"

"To clean up. Yeah."

David hasn't stopped blushing and he runs his palm up over his face, along the line of his jaw.

"I'll go take the bathroom and change. Um. I don't think you'd fit my underwear…"

"I. No. It's fine. I'll just, uh, take these off."

They laugh together and it eases some of the awkwardness and he leaves the room, taking clean underwear and pants with him and hoping his dad doesn't catch him, because even with the relaxed state of affairs it still feels kind of rude to disappear to his bedroom and get off with his boyfriend. He returns to his bedroom, hoping he's given David enough time and understanding some more of his nervousness from Saturday night. He feels sleepy, and damn it, the last thing he wants to do is sleep right now but David is looking at him, amused.

"Nap?"

"I… that would be rude," he replies, although his entire body feels like it is already half asleep. David rolls his eyes and grabs a book off his shelf, _**The Hound of the Baskervilles,**_ and moves to lie on his bed, seemingly comfortable.

"Come on, just have a short nap. I'll read…"

It sounds wonderful and he can't bring himself to argue, instead he curls up on his bed, snuggles into David's body, rests his head on David's upper arm and lets his arm settle over David's chest. He doesn't expect David to read aloud, but he does, and he falls asleep to the sound of his voice.


	33. Chapter 31

**Author's note**: Two more after this. I've started uploading it onto my LJ with all of Kurt and Dave's chat in the proper colours with the little emoticons and everything, so am reliving it from the start, which is making me even more emotional about how close to the end I am. I'll be sad when this is over. It's been so much fun.

Also, I realised my previous author's note made it sound like I am taking my fic down, or not updating here. Sorry. I won't remove my fic from this site. If it suddenly disappears it won't be my doing. I do have it all backed up. I have the same username on LiveJournal and AO3.

* * *

><p><strong>PART THIRTYONE<strong>

His dad has been giving him funny looks all day. Actually, he's been getting them ever since he found him and David curled up and asleep when he'd pushed the partially-closed door open to find out why they'd not responded to being called down for dinner. He secretly likes the fact that he's slept with David. Slept slept. Woken up in the morning and not worried about how he looks because he'd been confident that David wouldn't care what he looked like first thing in the morning. It's weirdly liberating, having that sense of comfort so early on. He always felt like he needed to be perfectly turned out whenever he went out with Blaine, probably because Blaine always looks so well dressed.

Tomorrow is his graduation, and he's managed to score an extra ticket for David to attend, because the idea of attending each other's high school graduation strikes him as meaningful in some way, the closing of a chapter and the beginning of a new one and he has to stop himself from giggling at the literary reference, because he's pretty sure it's David's influence that is causing it. He's dealing with the boring practice ceremony, and singing, Figgins wanting the National winning show choir to perform at the graduation ceremony. It has of course now become a logistical nightmare considering they're meant to walk across the stage in alphabetical order.

So the senior Glee club members are sitting at the end of aisles, ready to get up and sing, but then reshuffling when they go up on stage. He's glad him and Finn will be side-by-side, mainly so he can ensure Finn stays in the Hs and doesn't wander up into the Bs to be the Rachel, something she's convinced will happen if he doesn't keep a close eye kept on him. He's not exactly sure when he became Finn's keeper but he's going with it simply to keep Rachel happy. And quiet. Mainly quiet.

Tonight they're having a family dinner. His dad had insisted. As had Carole. Him and Finn are going to a party tomorrow night after graduation, so he supposes everyone will be having a special celebratory dinner tonight with their family, although he'd kind of hoped he could see David tonight. When he'd voiced the desire out loud his dad had dryly replied saying he was sure he'd survive, having seen him yesterday and would be seeing him again tomorrow. And would no doubt see him every day all summer given their vacation status. He'd pointed out that David has a job, to which his dad had just muttered about how maybe he should look upon that as an example. He still has twenty minutes before they need to leave so he pulls out his phone.

_My dad thinks he's funny. What are you doing tonight?_

_**Writing of course. What did your dad say?**_

_Of course. How silly of me. Oh, just about me getting a job and how not seeing you tonight won't kill me._

_There's a first time for everything right?_

_**Very true, and I'm not taking any chances…**_

Following that text message a photo comes through and he laughs at the ridiculous face David is pulling. He quickly takes a photo of himself pulling an equally ridiculous face. He cringes when he sees it, wants to delete it, but sends it through to him.

_**You know I'm making that your contact photo now right?**_

_What? No! That's inhumane. You must have a nicer photo of me you can use._

_**Well, I did take one of you asleep with drool on your face.**_

_You did not! _

_Tell me you didn't!_

_**No, I didn't. **_

_Are you just telling me that?_

_**I'll take a nice photo of you tomorrow.**_

_David, did you take a photo of me while I was asleep?_

_**Which time? *wink***_

"David. Have you actually taken a photo of me while I'm asleep?" He demands, giving up on the texting, because he needs to know right _now._

"No. You think I even want to move when I have you asleep beside me?"

The joking way in which David says that belies the sincerity behind the words and he grins, enjoying the fact that David is becoming more and more comfortable with him in every aspect.

"That's okay then. I wish I could talk, but family dinner…"

"I know. Go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mmm. Talk to you later?"

"Uh, can I text you and let you know when I've finished the chapter. I just kind of want to concentrate on getting in done."

"Of course. I look forward to reading it…"

"You always do."

He says good bye and hangs up, but David is right, he _does_ look forward to reading his writing, probably even more now. He hasn't told him, but he still re-reads certain pieces and jerks off, now basking in the knowledge that the mind that created the words is attached to a guy he gets to call his boyfriend.

**OAA**

Thirty-seven times in fourteen days. That's an average of 2.6 times a day.

He goes back to that conversation and lets that knowledge wash over him whenever he needs to reassure himself that it's not some type of weird dream. Apart from the cyber sex they kind of stopped talking about sex and he's not sure how to feel about it exactly. He enjoys what they've done together, but they haven't talked about it with any level of openness since discovering each other's identities. He doesn't know if Kurt and Blaine were open, but his gut tells him that Kurt was at his most open when they were truly anonymous, when he didn't feel embarrassed about sharing anything and everything. He wants to have that level of openness face-to-face, but he's just not sure how to go about it without dying of embarrassment first.

It's still on his mind the next day when he joins Burt and Carole in the seats, waiting for the graduation ceremony. He's arranged time off work for today, moved some of his shifts around so that he doesn't feel guilty for leaving them shorthanded. Again. New Directions give a stunning performance, and he knows Burt probably catches him with a soppy look on his face but he doesn't care. He sits quietly through the ceremony and it's actually feels pretty good being able to see the people he went to high school with for three years walk across the stage and receive their diplomas. Some of them he even went to elementary and middle school with. Figgins announces the end of the ceremony and there's a rain of graduation caps and a wave of students moving to their families.

"Hey look! It's Double-H!" Puck calls out, waving at him madly as he walks toward his mom and he lowers his head a bit. Burt still looks at him, eyebrow raised at his embarrassment.

"Do I even want to know what that stands for?" Burt asks him and he swallows, shaking his head.

"Uh… no?"

"Hmpf."

Fuck, Kurt's friends are going to be the death of him, he _knows_ it. He sees Santana heading for him, wide grin on her face and it's nice to see her so happy. He's wrapped in a tight hug and she whispers _'you look happy'_ in his ear and a sharp bark of laughter escapes.

"I was about to say the same to you."

"Obviously being high school graduates agrees with us. You coming to the party tonight?"

"Yeah. What do think my chances are?"

"Well, since Az punched you public opinion has swung in your favor, so you're probably set for the night."

"Oh good…" At least it was useful for something.

"What does she mean set?" Burt asks, popping up almost ninja like.

"Uh, some of the New Directions members aren't exactly my biggest fans and have been trying to convince Kurt that I'm bad news."

"Kurt can make his own decisions. He'll be in New York soon, independent. It's a big change for both of you. Maybe more for him. It'll be his first time –"

"No it won't be. Don't worry Mr Hummel, Kurt isn't a virgin."

_Oh holy shit_. He chokes as Burt Hummel looks to him and he raises his hands helplessly and shakes his head madly, trying to make it perfectly clear that Kurt's loss of virginity had nothing to do with him. Blaine's eyes have gone wide as if his brain has just caught up with his lips and he slaps a hand over his mouth.

"Hey, what's going on?" Kurt asks, smile bright and almost _skipping_ up to them from where he was having a photo with Rachel, her dads and Mr Schuester.

"I need a drink, that's what's going on."

"Dad, I really don't think you should drink so much. Don't think I don't know about the beers you and Paul sneak in…"

"Uh Kurt, if he wants a drink I think maybe you should let him have it this one time," Dave says, eyes flicking between Blaine and Burt, neither of which seem to want to acknowledge what was just said.

"What? Why?"

"Uh, I think I'm going to leave now," Blaine says, and his voice is unnaturally high. Kurt watches him leave, clearly confused and Dave sighs, wondering if there's anything he can say right now that could possibly make this somehow less awkward.

"Blaine heard your dad and I talking about something and…" he's not exactly sure why Blaine would think he'd discuss his sex life with Burt Hummel, but maybe it's something Blaine did in the past? Talk with Burt Hummel about sex? "Blaine informed your dad that uh, you're not a virgin. Um…"

Burt moans and rubs his face before giving Kurt a quick hug and mumbling that he'll see him in a few minutes.

"What! What were you guys talking about?" Kurt hisses, and his eyes have gone slightly wild.

"New York. I think he was going to say something about it being your first time living away from home or something but Blaine… he just blurted it out."

"Oh god… my poor dad. The last couple of weeks have been rough. And Blaine's always been a little too upfront with him about sex."

"I… do I even want to know?"

"No. But… well, my uncomfortable sex talk with my dad was because Blaine informed him I needed to be educated," he rolls his eyes. "Shame I didn't know then how much of an effect writing could have on me… Among other things."

He flushes, instantly feeling tongue-tied, but he tries to calm his brain and body. This is the perfect opening, however the timing couldn't be worse and he's not discussing their burgeoning sex life at Kurt's graduation.

"Lucky for me I guess."

"Mmm, I think it's pretty much win-win for both of us. Come on, you can come make yourself useful and take photos of the Hudson-Hummel clan. Maybe my dad will have stopped being embarrassed. Makes a nice change though, he seems to have been going out of his way to try and embarrass me recently."

"Maybe he figures that if you're embarrassed you won't uh, have sex with me…"

"And we know how well that worked out huh?"

His receding flush comes back in full force and he ducks his head, grinning as Kurt laughs quietly. It's good to know that their mutually beneficial make out session on Thursday evening counts as sex. It does in his mind, and that Kurt considers it sex as well makes him feel warm all over. He feels Kurt's fingers curl around his hand and the quick peck of lips on his cheek and lets himself be led over to where Burt, Carole and Finn are waiting.


	34. Chapter 32

**Author's note**: Second to last chapter.

_Kurt texting_

**Blaine texting**

* * *

><p><strong>PART THIRTYTWO<strong>

He's cornered pretty quickly at the party, and he tries to ignore the feeling of sheer terror creeping through him. He wonders if they realize the tables have completely turned and how much they scare him now. He knows in theory that they can't do anything physically harmfuling, but that's not what he's worried about.

"We just want to understand…" Rachel starts but Mercedes holds up her hand.

"Screw understanding! I want answers! And I want to make sure you don't even think about messing with him!"

He looks between Rachel and Mercedes and swallows nervously. Despite Santana's reassurances earlier that New Directions feel slightly warmer toward him since Az decked him, she was clearly overly optimistic.

"I won't mess with him. I promise."

"How did you two become friends anyway? Because he didn't even mention he was even talking to you," Rachel says, and she says it calmly, clearly trying to act as a go-between peace-keeper, and compared to Mercedes' narrowed eyes and hand-on-hip stance he'll take it.

"Uh, how much has Kurt told you?"

"Told us? Nothing!" Mercedes snaps.

"Oh… uh…" he doesn't know what to say to that, whether Kurt's embarrassed at how they have connected, or whether he feels he's protecting Dave in some way, or whether he simply wants to keep it a secret between the two of them. And his few hundred followers on tumblr. _Hmm_.

"Look, Kurt and I found each other online. We didn't know who the other was; we just started exchanging messages…"

"Really?" Mercedes asks, clearly skeptical, although he can tell Rachel already has an _'oh, that's so romantic'_ phrase on the tip of her tongue.

"Yeah, we talked a lot, for a few weeks, about… lots of things. We just, kind of hit it off."

"How did you meet online?"

"Uh, gay teen support website?" He suggests, and he's pretty sure Mercedes doesn't believe him, but Rachel is nodding as if it makes perfect sense.

"And what, you decided to tell each other your names one day?"

"Uh no, not exactly. Um. I'd feel better if Kurt was here, this is his story too…"

"But you're doing such a good job, telling the _story…_" Kurt says, and he feels Kurt's body press up against him from behind, arms wrap around his waist and his chin resting on his shoulder. Rachel is looking at them happily, but Mercedes is still frowning.

"So, one of you figured it out?" Rachel asks.

"David figured it out… he'd recommended some books for me to read, so I decided to go to the book store, which David happens to work at… and he saw the books and he knew it had to be me he'd been talking to all along."

"And how long did you keep that a secret?" Mercedes asks, and he feels Kurt's body tense.

"He actually dropped hints immediately. Massive hints. Like telling me he was going to New York. If I had been paying attention I would have realized then and there. He sent me a message later, telling me."

"Oh, that's so romantic. Like '_You've Got Mail'_."

He knows for certain the Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks didn't bond over gay fanfiction but he smiles and nods, and judging from the way Kurt's body is shaking with contained laughter, he's probably thinking the same thing.

"So how long were you guys talking online?"

"_Weeks_. And that was before we became a couple two weeks ago. The reason I didn't tell you? Because until Friday last week David wasn't out, and also, I knew you'd react like this. Quite frankly no one else's opinion matters. That's what Blaine told me, and he's right. I've forgiven David, I'm the one that has to make out with him, and kiss him and go on dates with him. Not either of you. So, if you'll excuse us, I'd like to go and make out with my boyfriend."

Dave knows his mouth is gaping and he feels one of Kurt's fingers in a belt loop, tugging him backward and he smiles apologetically to both Rachel and Mercedes, because he's pretty sure Kurt hasn't exactly endeared him to either of them, although he's pretty sure Rachel is sold on the sheer romance of the scenario. Which he's pretty sure would fade if either he or Kurt mentioned all the times they'd talked about sex, but regardless, Mercedes will probably come around. Hopefully.

OAA

Two weeks into his summer vacation things have calmed down considerably. Proximity, and lots of it, seem to have eased everyone's doubts about David. They've gone to the movies a couple of times, met for coffee, and David has sat through numerous and no-doubt grueling interrogations when he's stepped away. Mercedes is the last of his friends to acquiesce, and she does it with bad grace, telling him she isn't happy about it. He'd rolled his eyes and snapped back that she doesn't have to be happy, because he's happy enough for the both of them.

He's glad for Blaine's unwavering support through it all, because it seems like each glee club member has gone to Blaine individually and tried to get him to stage an intervention. Fortunately Blaine has been the voice of reason and talked each of them down, and he supposes he just needs to be glad they didn't go to him like the hive mind they sometimes are. If he thinks about it too much it annoys him so he tries to avoid over thinking it and reminds himself that they're meant to be his friends. Heaven forbid he had _enemies_ that were intent on breaking him and David up before they even really got started.

With no school to get up to every day he's finding his routine completely out of synch. So he's gotten himself a summer job, working behind the counter at the small coffee shop where David takes his breaks. He has to go on a two-day barista training course before they'll let him touch the actual coffee, and he's been warned not to talk to the early-morning customers until they've had their first cup. He's doing it in the hopes that he'll develop a skill-set which he can use in New York, maybe get a part-time job there. His dad is quietly approving, which he just rolls his eyes at, because he's not doing it because he suggested it.

He's been introduced to Suzanne, the florist and gift-shop owner at the mall, and she'd hugged him enthusiastically and told him it was nice to finally meet him. The gorilla suit, gifts and rainbow colored rose all slot into place. As do the other flowers David occasionally gives him when he sees Kurt after he's finished at work. David is definitely a romantic, and it's thrown in to stark relief that he isn't actually sure how to reciprocate. He loves the attention, and small tokens, and little things David does that ensure he knows he's always on his mind, but he's not sure how to make David feel the same way. Yet.

Part of their routine now includes him staying over at David's occasionally. So far it's been three times since his graduation. His dad hasn't mentioned David staying over at home, and he's fine with that, his dad is dealing with everything as best he can, although he's pretty sure since Blaine's faux pas David can do no wrong in his dad's eyes, although he hopes for the sake of his sanity that his dad doesn't sit around thinking about his sex life. They haven't moved past dry humping and fondling each other through their clothes. While he's pretty sure they're both ready for more neither of them seem to be in a huge rush to move past it either.

OAA

He's hung up about saying the words again, although at least this time there's no _think_ about it, but he wants Kurt to know. He studies him surreptitiously, lying on his bed curled on one side, facing him and reading one of his books while Dave sits at his desk and writes. He never thought he could be so comfortable with someone else, but sharing silence with Kurt has quickly become one of his favorite past times, after making out with him and talking to him.

"You're staring again…" Kurt says, faint smile on his lips and he chuckles softly, knowing he probably hasn't typed anything for several minutes. Kurt is good at keeping him on task, offering up excellent motivation for finished chapters.

He stares at the open documents in front of him, Unmasked being one of them. He'd marked it as complete, although it was really anything _but_ complete. He's explained to a couple of his most faithful reviewers, the whole story behind it, because it's not like his usual plot-heavy long-chaptered pieces or his smut-ridden one-shots. He's reached a point though that he wants to expand on it, to open up some more to Kurt. They don't _talk_ like they used to. They do talk, but Kurt still gets all delightfully flustered when they talk about sex and he kind of wants for them to be able to talk about anything, without feeling embarrassed about it.

He finishes writing it, hands shaking with nerves as he uploads it, changing the summary slightly and rating, and types out the author's note with shaking fingers. He publishes it and lets out a long breath and wonders if Kurt has his e-mail alerts turned on. He usually doesn't when they're together, because Kurt reads through the chapters before he posts them anyway, and apparently his e-mails are the only ones Kurt cares about. He bites his lip and wonders how long he's going to have to wait before Kurt reads it.

OAA

In two short weeks the sound of typing has become one of the most comforting and soothing sounds for him to relax to. He likes listening to David type, likes the little pauses and look of intense concentration on David's face when he's concentrating on figuring something out. He likes the longer pauses, knowing that David is probably staring at him and he enjoys this time together. He's hoping it bodes well for them in New York, capable of dual study sessions so they'll be able to spend time together. They've talked about New York a lot now, fears, expectations, his excitement and David's general apathy about it being New York, just saying it was a good sports journalism school.

That's okay, he can be excited about New York for the both of them and he's already made a list of things he's going to take David to. Things David will enjoy, like sports. He's gotten his dad's advice on what sports and teams, and he's pretty sure his dad spoke to Paul, and thinking about it he could have just snooped on David's tumblr. He's on there infrequently, not really needing it when he has David right in front of him or only a text message away. He has been introduced to all of David's online friends though, which had been odd, but he understands how important they are, and how David is planning on meeting some of them this summer.

His phone chimes and he knows it's Blaine without even needing to look, solely because it's the start of the Hobbit theme song, Santana's idea of a joke, and he pulls his phone from his pocket.

**You didn't tell me he told you he loves you! **Blaine's text reads. He frowns and reads the message again, trying to make sense of it.

_What are you talking about?_

**Dave. He told you he loves you. **Blaine replies, and there's another text filled with wide smiling emoticons and he chews his bottom lip. He never told Blaine what David said at Valentine's, just about the gifts and the general sentiments, so he knows Blaine can't be referring to then.

_Okay. I still have no idea what you're talking about. _

**You haven't read his latest chapter? I thought you read all of them before they were posted?**

He frowns, flicks into his e-mail and waits for it to connect and update, which doesn't take long considering he just uses the wifi.

_New chapter – Chapter 2 of story, Unmasked, by HookedonHope._

Oh really? He flicks his eyes up to David, who is studiously ignoring him. In fact, the typing speed seems to have increased. He thumbs over the link and begins to read.

* * *

><p><strong>You now need to go and read the second and final part of "Unmasked" by Aetheriata<strong>

You can find it in my favourites. I can't post a link here, it deletes half of it.

You need to read this so that the next (and last) chapter will make sense.


	35. Chapter 33

**Author's note**: This is it. Finished. All done. Completed. Thank you so much for all you support and enthusiasm while I wrote this. It's been a lot of fun. It pretty much took over my life and over shadowed all my other WIPs, which I will now be picking up and dusting off. Poor neglected babies.

There may or may not be a sequel to this. It will depend on a variety of factors.

**Warning**: Smut. But probably not what you're hoping for?

* * *

><p><strong>PART THIRTYTHREE<strong>

His whole body won't stop tingling, pulses travelling through his body and he lies there, knowing he is grinning like an idiot and staring at the phone in his hand. It won't ever get old, knowing someone loves you. Enough to declare it to the whole world like that. Although a small part of him is a bit piqued that _Blaine_ knew David loved him before he did, a larger part of him says he already knew David loved him and to stop being melodramatic.

He taps on the review button, refusing to look over at David, who probably just thinks he's texting someone. He wonders when David hoped he'd read this particular story, it's left him feeling all warm and fuzzy as well as a little aroused. He wants to re-read it, because he considers this _his_, David has written it for him, to again tell him something important. He wants to re-read it, but after he's typed a review.

_You capture the fear and uncertainty of John's feelings wonderfully, as always. Sherlock's confusion as he deals with emotions for the second time and his realization that all his feelings are for just the one person. John. It's a beautiful love story, with just the right amount of angst in it. I liked the -experimentation- excuse very much as well. It sounds like something Sherlock would say and do. And now I am going to re-read this wonderful piece of writing, because it's mine and I adore it to pieces. Much like the author. _

He's not going to tell David he loves him in a review. He'd prefer to say the words out loud the first time. Looking across the room David is still staring at his screen intently, fingers tapping away and only occasionally reaching up to push his glasses up his nose when they slip. He turns his e-mail alerts on, because there's _something_ that tells him David will be replying electronically. He's been a bit more reserved and subdued, and he's caught him biting his lip on more than one occasion, and he's sure it's because Dave is holding back. He hears a few clicks of the mouse followed by more typing, a soft huff of what he thinks is amusement and when he chances a quick glance he's pretty sure he sees David smiling before he ducks his head a bit lower behind his screen.

_**Can we chat? In the chat room?**_

He bites his lip and refuses to look up, swallowing convulsively to try and work some moisture into his mouth. They've only ever used the chat room for cybersex before, and he's pretty sure doing that with David in the room… _oh god_. They'd be jerking off together but separately. He looks up then and meets David's eyes, but he doesn't actually look like he's even slightly interested in getting off. Maybe he's read the situation totally wrong? Kurt nods though, keeping the silence between them and scoots down to the end of the bed to retrieve his laptop. He shuffles back and wonders if he needs to get himself comfortable, in a position where he can jerk off, but a part of him would actually like for them to do this together, or at least side-by-side. Oh screw it, he doesn't know.

He goes to the same room they always use, logs in and isn't surprised that David is already in there. Or HookedonHope rather, and he can't help but smile. It was one HH that no one guessed, and he hadn't even remembered until the next night. Ham hock. He would never call David that now, he much rather prefers HookedonHope, or even Hung like a Horse. He lets out a little laugh, looking up to meet David's eyes again.

_**HookedonHope has entered the chat room**_

_FruitLover has entered the chat room_

_**I miss this. Miss talking about nothing and everything and feeling like I can say anything without worrying how you'll react.**_

He frowns, he wants David to feel like he can say anything to his face and not worry about how he'll react. He isn't going to storm off in a hissy fit if David says something he doesn't like…

_**I've kind of been saving up all these things I want to tell you. You looked amazing when you graduated. I mean, you look amazing all the time, but you just looked so happy. When you're that happy all the people around you can't help but feel buoyed up by it. Like your happiness is contagious. Seeing you happy makes so many other people happy, and if I can do anything to make you happy then I will, because it will never grow old.**_

_**Every time you smile at me I feel lucky to simply be allowed to be near you. That after everything we've been through, you've been able to forgive me and separate my past actions from the person I am now, and the person I want to be. Because of you. Your strength gives me strength, and I can only hope that some point in the future, you can take from me any strength that you might need. Or anything else you might need.**_

_**I don't think you realize just how amazing you are, how gorgeous and talented. I could watch you for hours. Days. And I'd never get bored.**_

He stares as the words just appear on his screen in chunks, and he can hear David typing away and know there's more to come. He realizes that David had really meant it when he said he communicates better with the written word. He feels embarrassed by all the compliments, even though he knows they're probably mostly true.

_**There's nothing about you yet which I don't like. I am sure there will be something, and maybe over time some things will change, but right now, you are perfection. The way your eyes narrow and you purse your lips just before you're about to bitch me out for something, yeah. That turns me on. So every time you think I am acting suitably chastened, not so much. Just fighting the urge to reach for you and kiss you.**_

_**I want to touch you all the time, hold your hand, kiss you on a whim, rest my hand on your hipbone or around your waist. I want to do everything with you, learn the flavor of your skin on all the different parts of your body. Get you to tell me what feels good until you feel so good I can barely understand what you're trying to say.**_

Oh _fuck_. He's not sure if he's meant to be getting turned on, but he is, and it's the least appropriate time _ever_. David is pouring his heart out, has clearly been agonizing over these thoughts and he's lying here wondering what _David's_ skin tastes like all over.

_**We haven't talked though, we just seem to be muddling along and I suddenly feel like I'm blind, or that I don't know the rules to this complex game, and it's only a matter of time before I screw up and lose big time. **_

_Come here. Please._

It's the first thing he's typed and there's silence from David and he looks up from his screen to see David looking at him nervously. He folds his laptop closed and reaches down to slide it under the bed, before moving back and leaving plenty of room on the bed. Maybe it's not the best place to talk, but needs must. David stands slowly, takes off his glasses and leaves them by his computer before stepping toward him and then sitting on the edge of his bed, looking anxious.

"Neither of us is perfect David. Please don't think that I am. We _will_ make mistakes. But we did make rules, well, one rule, and that was to tell each other. _Say something_. If you can't tell me, text me… or e-mail me. Just… tell me. Don't stop communicating with me."

"Okay…" his voice is quiet, but he's nodding and he _feels_ David physically relax, his body sinking a bit further onto the bed.

"And as for the other things, you can say all of that to me too… Sure, I might get a little embarrassed, it doesn't mean I don't like hearing it." He picks at a spot of lint on the bed coverings, knowing his cheeks are warm, but he's being honest.

"_Oh_."

"Plus, the more you tell me what you want to do with me, the less embarrassed I'll be." Hopefully he'll eventually be able to return the favor, if David likes the idea of him whispering what he wants to do with him in his ear.

"I like it when you're a little embarrassed. Flustered."

David's voice is low and another tingle travels through his body. He looks up to find David watching him, and he licks his lips nervously, although he feels less nervous when he notes David's eye following the movement. He licks them again, this time smiling mischievously. Then David's surging toward him, a hand going to his and tugging him forward.

OAA

"Ow!"

"Oh fuck! Sorry!" He exclaims, pulling back, eyes widening as he takes in the tiny smear of blood on Kurt's lip where it's been caught between their teeth.

"It's fine David, really."

"Kurt, you're _bleeding…"_

"It's just my lip. You'll just have to kiss me elsewhere for a while…"

He takes in Kurt's surprised expression, that he can't quite believe he just said that, and Dave rests his head on Kurt's shoulder, laughing briefly before turning to place a tiny kiss on the column of Kurt's neck above his collar before placing another one in the start of a path to his ear. Kurt's neck and earlobes seem to be hyper sensitive and he's learnt quite a bit in the last few weeks. He hears a sharp indrawn breath and nips at the earlobe before flicking it with his tongue.

Then Kurt's fingers and scrabbling at his neck, tugging at the scarf he has so artfully tied in place before it's loose and Kurt is tossing it over the side of the bed. _Oh fuck_. He's not stopped kissing him, but it's hard to have his full attention on kissing Kurt when he's pretty sure Kurt is getting undressed. And _not_ to get changed into pajamas.

"God, why do I wear so many layers?"

His pulse is racing. Despite the fondling and groping they've done, everything has been above clothes so far, well, sneaky hands under shirts so he can stroke hipbones, but he feels like he's seeing Kurt's collar bone for the first time. Kurt's muttering is making him smile though, saying he sees the point of snaps and Velcro for once, and then the shirt is being tugged out from where it was tucked into his pants and he galvanizes into action. Why look when he can taste? Feel?

He trails down to the collar bone, and he has no idea what Kurt does to his skin, but he smells amazing. So maybe that cologne thing has some merit if he could smell as half as good as this, sort of musky sweet, although he'd like to know what Kurt smells like fresh out of the shower. He nips along the ridge of clavicle bone and Kurt's body sways toward him, then another piece of clothing is being chucked over the side of his bed, which leaves Kurt just in his jeans and undershirt. Then Kurt is tugging at his own t-shirt and he freezes for a second, although he knows he really has nothing to worry about, the number of times he's caught Kurt subconsciously stroking his forearms and biting his lip while staring at his chest speculatively

Leaning back he strips it off like a band aid, not giving Kurt much time to look before he's kissing his neck again. They're sitting awkwardly, his feet still on the floor, body twisted, while Kurt is sitting cross-legged, leaning toward him. He feels the scratch of finger nails and he pulls back in shock, stares down at the pale splayed fingers in his chest hair and then at Kurt, who removes his hand only to pull his shirt over his head just as fast. Kurt doesn't look up, so he lets his eyes take note of the creamy colored skin, the pale pink nipples and the very fine scattering of hair just in the center of his chest. There're a few freckles as well, and he reaches out hesitantly to draw a line between them only to have Kurt squirm and lean away.

"David! It tickles!"

Grinning he turns to kneel on the bed, Kurt scrambling up onto his knees as well, looking half-ready to flee if Dave intends to tickle him. He doesn't, and they meet somewhere in the middle. It's a bit wobbly, but Kurt's moaning into his mouth, bruised lip completely forgotten and he runs his hands down Kurt's bare back for the first time. _Smooth smooth smooth_. He can feel the firmness of muscle under warm skin, the dip along the length of his back where the spine is, and he can feel Kurt's chest press against his own with each breath.

"Still ticklish?" He asks, and he means it teasingly, but his voice sounds lower and rougher than normal and he swallows. Coughs, trying to clear his throat. Kurt is pushing against his chest so firmly he has to push back just to remain upright. He can feel Kurt's hands on his back, then fingers digging firmly into his ass cheeks and holding him in place as Kurt pushes against him again.

"God _David_…"

_Oh fuck_. One of Kurt's hands is palming his cock, barely squeezed between their bodies, and it feels amazing, but also every sense seems to be in overdrive. Kurt's skin feels hot against his, he can still smell whatever scent Kurt's got on, but arousal and sweat mix with it now. He can taste, very faintly, a saltiness to Kurt's skin as he runs his tongue over his skin and he can hear Kurt gasp his name again, breathing shallow. His own breath sounds shuddery to his ears, like he can't breathe in enough to fill his lungs.

"Off. Off off off," Kurt demands, and _holy shit_, his fingers are plucking at the waist band of his jeans. He wants this, so badly, and he pulls back slightly, unbalancing Kurt in the process, just so he can undo the button of his jeans. He might have splurged on some new underwear and right now he's so grateful he did as he watches Kurt stand up, balancing precariously and tugging at his own jeans, one hand braced on Dave's shoulder as he tries to tug them off.

Without thinking he reaches to cover Kurt's hands with his own, and his heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat, but he presses his mouth to the fly of Kurt's pants and breathes out. He can feel Kurt's erection, and he doesn't understand why Kurt still insists on wearing such tight pants, because that _can't_ be comfortable. He runs a finger down the zipper and looks up to see if Kurt's okay with what he's doing. He doesn't say anything, just moves his hands to be on top of his and then tugs at his pants again, message clear before he's easing the zipper down right in front of Dave's eyes.

He peels the pants down, slowly just getting them to Kurt's thighs and he's suddenly face-to-face with _hipbones_. He leaves one hand working on the jeans, it's easier now, but one hand goes to Kurt's hip, steadying him and he places soft light kisses. He hears Kurt let out a quiet moan, and _good_, he'd like one of his most sensitive spots to be one he's so equally obsessed with. Not that he has any plans to ignore the rest of Kurt's body, but he's pretty sure he's always going to return here.

Kurt is wiggling, trying to get his jeans off and he leans back, kneeling and watches as Kurt kicks them off. His underwear is half-way down already and he can see curly dark pubic hair sticking out the top. He leans forward and nuzzles his nose against it, and it feels _silky_. He grins, because he can almost imagine Kurt giving it a conditioning treatment, because his own pubic hair feels nothing like this soft.

"I'm feeling decidedly underdressed here David…"

He looks up again and grins, shrugs.

"Sorry, can you blame me if I was a little distracted?"

He shimmies backwards and off the bed, his undone jeans fall to the floor easily once he pushes them over his erection, the head of which is poking out the top of his boxer-briefs. He doesn't know whether he should take them off or not as well. Kurt is pulling back the sheets and comforter, and he wants to speak, but all words are caught in his throat, along with each beat of his heart. He remembers something he wrote to FruitLover, about the academic knowledge of how hot the sun is, but not having felt that heat first hand. Well, he's been feeling that heat for weeks now, and he's so hot he might just combust.

He eyes the middle draw of his bedside table where he keeps the best of his supplies. He has other stuff, but only the stuff he likes the most gets located to his bedside table. Should he get stuff out? _What_? Despite thinking he wanted this, now that he's confronted with the reality his mind is screaming in several different directions. His body wants just the one thing, so at least there's a part of him that's decisive.

"What are we going to do?" His voice sounds scratchy and quiet. Kurt stills instantly, walks across the bed on his knees and takes his hands in his, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Whatever we want. What we both want. Whatever feels right. Okay?"

He nods then, not sure if he can manage speech again. He leans down and kisses him, slowly. Thoroughly. It's familiar now, kissing Kurt, but no less exciting for him. He knows how sharp one particular tooth is against his tongue, the conflicting feeling of smooth inner cheek and rough tongue. The change in Kurt's body as it starts off slightly reserved and pulled back only to relax against him. There's none of that reservation now though, although neither is there relaxing. Instead Kurt is pushing against him like he wants to somehow climb inside his skin, moving to the edge of the bed and to standing all without breaking the kiss, bodies and erections pressed against each other. He pulls back slightly and grins at Kurt.

"Hey."

"Hey. Mmm. You're a fantastic kisser you know. Just needed to tell you that…" Kurt tells him, and he's gratifyingly breathy, cheeks pink with heat and his chest has kind of gone a bit blotchy. He realizes it's probably from Kurt rubbing against his chest hair and he runs the pads of fingers over the redness, surprised when Kurt arches and _hums_. Oh. Well then. He smiles, amused, because he's pretty sure Blaine has little to know body hair to speak of, so seeing Kurt discover that he _really_ likes it quite a lot is more than just a little stroke to his ego.

"Just, uh, let me get a couple of things…"

He tries not to be self-conscious as he steps away, and he hears Kurt moving on the bed, sees the movement of sheet and naked skin out of corner of his eye as he pulls open the draw, taking out lube and tissues, staring at the condoms before closing the draw, placing the other items on top and hopefully within easy reach. He turns to find Kurt watching him, sheet up to his waist, and he fights down the urge to laugh hysterically, because three months ago he couldn't ever see this happening, and yet here he is. He pulls the sheet up so he can slide in himself and his eyes are immediately drawn to the fact that Kurt's naked. Underwear gone.

"Fuck! You're naked!"

"I… well. Is that a problem?"

"I just… wasn't expecting it."

"You could join me you know," Kurt states, then bites his bottom lip and flushes further. He doesn't need any more encouragement and he hops into his bed, sliding his body along the length of Kurt's naked one.

"You could help me you know…" he says, voice quiet and he feels kind of cheesy, which is confirmed when Kurt lets out a light giggle. It doesn't stop Kurt's hand going to the waistband of his boxer briefs and slipping a finger beneath the elastic band though. He stops breathing but lifts up slightly as Kurt focuses on the task of removing his underwear blindly, and he's glad for the sheet, for at least an illusion of modesty. For now.

"This okay?"

The question reminds him to breathe and he inhales deeply and nods furiously, hand reaching up to cup Kurt's face and pull him down into a kiss. Kurt's more fluid in his movements then him, which shouldn't come as a surprise, but when he feels the slide of naked thigh between his own legs he almost jackknifes up and forces himself to freeze mid-move. Kurt doesn't seem to notice anything wrong, and then he feels another cock brush against his for the first time and his entire body shudders.

"Fuck Kurt…"

"Mmm…"

Then there is slow undulating pressure and Kurt's eyes are closed, and he wants to touch, but he also wants to look, so he raises his head slightly so he can see down the length of their bodies, between them. It's shadowy, but he can see the distinct outline of two cocks moving together. If he had white sheets on the bed like he usually does it wouldn't be so dark, but Kurt won't stay over on white sheets. Screw the cotton count, that doesn't matter, just anything but all white.

"Wow…"

"Hmm?"

"We're gorgeous…"

"Of course we are."

He laughs and reaches up to capture the back of Kurt's head, wanting to kiss him again. Kurt relaxes against him, and they're both moving their hips to keep up the friction, but it's not as tightly constrained, not _enough_ and now he _really_ wants to touch. He trusts Kurt to say something, and he moves, rolling them onto their sides and then he can do it, and he kicks the sheet down and away so he can see exactly what he's doing.

Kurt's cock isn't as long or as thick as his own, but he knew that already from feeling Kurt through his pants. Kurt's cock is pink, with a dark pink head, almost purple, and there's the soft dark pubic hair and he reaches out a hand to encircle his cock. He wants to try sucking him, and his mouth waters at the thought, but maybe he should try one thing at a time, despite his desire to try everything right now like he will never get the chance again. He grips, hopefully firm enough to feel good, and starts jerking Kurt off.

"Oh _god_." Kurt sounds half-choked and he feels a swell of confidence. He's not hurting him. "Both. Grip both of us. _Please._" He doesn't get what Kurt means for a split-second and then swallows, widens his grip and shuffles slightly, gripping both of their cocks in his fist.

"Okay?"

"_Yesss_…"

He moves his wrist slightly, making it a bit more comfortable. It's a tight squeeze if he wants to touch the tip of his finger to his thumb, but it's already a tight heat around his cock, the slick feel of Kurt's cock against it, and he doesn't think it needs to be any tighter. Not with the way Kurt is moving against him, lips on his shoulder half-sucking, half-biting and he starts to jerk them off.

The combined heat of their cocks pressed so closely together, surrounded by his hand, which feels too hot, and there's none of the smooth glide he usually has when he does this alone. He wonders if stopping and asking Kurt to reach for the lube would be a good idea but decides to forgo. He's not going to last long, and next time he can use lube. They're also both leaking a bit, which he hopes means Kurt is close, because he wants to see Kurt come, see his cock spurt over their stomachs and his hand.

Kurt's fingers are curled in his hair, tugging, and he's pretty sure Kurt is leaving a mark on his shoulder. He doesn't care about that, he doesn't mark easily, and there's some part of him that kind of likes the idea. His hand feels almost too tight around them, moving faster, because he needs it, and Kurt seems equally eager, but he needs to ask.

"This –"

"God yes, don't stop… _David_. Please."

Okay then. He lets his hand move faster, and yeah, one day he's going to do this and lick Kurt's hipbones while he's at it. He might have a problem there. For now he stops staring at their cocks for a brief second and licks up Kurt's neck, nips his earlobe and then places some more kisses back down the wet trail, because the neck is all he's had to focus on and that's been a surefire way of driving Kurt crazy. This time is no different and Kurt bucks toward him, moaning, fist curling into his hair, pulling a bit too tight.

He comes first, the sudden sensation of Kurt digging his nails into his ass make him shoot, and he groans his release, eyes squeezed tight and trying to ignore the oversensitive feeling of his cock as he continues to jerk Kurt off. Kurt is moving against him, small frantic movements and he increases the speed of his hand even more, only just remembering in time that he wants to see Kurt come and opening his eyes. He can't really see between them anymore, Kurt is pushed against him so tightly, but he feels the moment, the stillness followed by a tiny shudder and then the long drawn out moan. He loosens his hand slightly, still moving, but gentler, and he feels Kurt shudder against him again.

"Mmm, wow…" Kurt mumbles, before leaning away slightly to look between their bodies, come spread over their stomachs and dripping over his hand. He releases their cocks slowly, and brings his hand up to his mouth, his own curiosity driving him. He wants to know and he takes a tentative taste, Kurt watching him with wide eyes.

"I… how does it taste?"

"Uh, kind of gross?" He replies, and he doesn't have time to think of lying.

"Great…"

_Fuck._ He still needs to work on his mind-mouth filter.

"I mean, I'm sure it's an acquired taste. One I don't mind tasting over and over again."

"Oh." Kurt blushes and looks either pleased, or amused, he's not sure, but he doesn't look grossed out which is reassuring. He'd meant it when he said he wanted to try everything, and for him, he knows he needs to try things more than once. The first time is always weird or awkward, or too much of a surprise. Knowing partially what to expect takes away some of that level of surprise and he can focus more on whether he actually likes it or not, rather than just thinking _gross_. Or, what he suspects will happen, the pleasure will simply override the grossness by such a large degree that it becomes negligible.

He's wide awake and he watches in bemusement as Kurt plays with his chest hair; pulling the hair straight before letting it go and watching it curl and kink back to normal. He's obviously fascinated, but Dave can tell by the slow blinking that he's struggling to stay awake. Kurt is definitely a napper after sex, and apparently he likes running his fingers through chest hair as a form of additional relaxation. There is no part of him that isn't a hundred percent okay with this.

"I love you too you know…"

He can't help the slow grin that breaks out, because no, he didn't know, and hearing Kurt say that, naked and sleepy-eyed in his bed, is pretty much all he could ask for. He leans over to brush a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"I'm going to fall asleep."

"Shh. Sure thing…"

He waits for Kurt to fall asleep, his mouth slack and he's tempted just to take a photo so he has one but he doesn't. Instead he eases himself

He pulls on his boxer-briefs and with a quick glance up and down the hall dives into the bathroom to use it before heading back to his bedroom. He heads to his computer and moves the mouse to wake it up, making a couple of clicks before curling up back in bed, Kurt snuggling into him in his sleep and he smiles.

_**HookedonHope has left the chatroom**_

**THE END**

**(Probably)**


	36. 2-year jump

Author's note: Something I wrote on tumblr a few months ago. This is set two years after the start of Online and Anonymous.

* * *

><p>"Two years Dave, that's two years too long… stupid British TV shows…" Kurt mutters under his breath.<p>

Dave smiles and settles himself more comfortably into the sofa, relishing Kurt's weight against him as he also makes himself more comfortable. They've been in the little (_tiny_) apartment for a few months now, their dorm rooms behind them after the first year of promising their dad's that they would indeed try and live a _normal_ college life. _Ha_. His life could never be defined as _normal_ with Kurt in it.

"Ready?" he asks, remote in hand. He's already downloaded the episode and put it on a memory stick for watching on the TV. From the brief bits he's seen while trying to _avoid_ spoilers on tumblr he knows that the next couple of weeks are going to be filled with Kurt bitching about having to wait an entire week for another Sherlock episode; and he knows that pointing out that they've waited two years will go down like a lead balloon. Kurt nods and he presses play.

**OAA**

It's like a date night, curled up into Dave's side for the third Sunday night running. The first episode had got him hooked all over again, especially after the mini-marathon of watching the first two series again. For the last two weeks he's enjoyed Dave's analysis of the show and the quick little pieces of fanfiction Dave has produced. The amount Dave writes has dropped off since they started college and it's a nice reminder of what brought them together.

"Oh my god…" he groans, the realisation hitting him suddenly as the credits begin to roll.

"What?" Dave asks, and he can hear the mild concern in his voice.

"I just realised I'm going to have to wait _another_ two years aren't I?"

"Uh, only a year I think?"

"No! That's what Blaine said when I finished watching the end of Series two! All lies!" Dave laughs and he bats his arm ineffectively. "At least you have to endure the wait with me."

"Wouldn't want to be anywhere else…"


End file.
